Fuck You Too

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I'm sorry, I don't know how to begin this post. What I felt when I saw my mother's name in a sentence about a carcass, my first reaction was shock. That shock let into complete rage and now i'm just sad. I'm like the saddest boy alive. Of course, i'm not really. There are boys in Africa who lost both their parents and starve on a daily basis. They're sadder than me. In my shock it seems I blacked out and trashed my room. It also seems that now I should open the box. So I will. Consider this a live box opening with pictures and all.

This is the outside of the box. Our friend seems to have employed some well placed electrical tape.

Here is the contents of the box. Their arrangement is almost creepy  considering how much they were jostled around.

Here are the dolls alone. The big one is Max from where the wild things are. The two small ones seem to be  The Mad Hatter (left) and The Scarecrow (right).

And the not to go along with the dolls. "Dear friend Max, say hello to your wild things. One will fall apart by the hands of many nothings. One will grow mad from their own wrong doings. But you will always be there, Max. In and out of weeks. And almost a year. Searching for your wild things. But you will not find them. They will be long gone by then. I have seen this future. Thank you."

I need a bit of time to mourn, maybe go to a funeral. Bye.

-S.C.