Dear Anonymous Benefactor
Before you I was floundering in the mud. I was like some prototype human-fish hybrid, wriggling without arms and only one leg in pools of stinking, treacherous mud. Mouth barely able to find space enough for air, before the stinking mess would come rolling back into the space only food and hydration should have known.
And then came you.
You, like some lightning bolt of utter wonderfulness, came and struck my leg, splitting it in two. You, you white bolt of light, struck twice more at my sides and thus two arms were born. You my absolute friggin saviour whose name I shall carve out upon my skin, kissing it daily at dawn, (unless of course that is too Greek frattish for you, and then I’ll settle for the mere branding of your likeness upon my shin), caused me to become human once more. Hark! Look as the Arch Angel Tankula arises from the mud, walking on unsteady and newly formed legs, flapping her arms because she’s always testing her luck, look as she walks on out of Shitesmear because of your generosity and brilliance.
Oh Anonymous Benefactor, who is only anonymous because I think you’d prefer it that way, but should you differ, I shall not hesitate to buy a pack of doilies and cut your name into them, stringing them like bunting around my room. Oh Anonymous Benefactor, I have not seen you now for many months and I can still count on you to bail me out when I make stupid decisions that leave me fucked financially. Oh Anonymous Benefactor - you’re my fiscal hero and I can never thank you enough.
Placing faith in my memories and acting the optimist, I have made 3 appointments to see three houses tomorrow. One of them is mine, I can feel it in my bones and it is mine because I have some of the best friends alive. Thank you Anonymous Benefactor from the bottom of my cavernous and no longer miserable heart. I owe you 5 thousand.
