The Golden Axe Resource, Death Adder's Castle

Ask the Death Adder

5.08.2001

Dear Death Adder,

I live under a bridge just outside town.  Recently, a new hobo named Fred moved in.  At first I was overjoyed, but lately we haven't been getting along.  When I'm sleeping he doesn't keep the fire burning like I do for him.  When new cardboard boxes blow our way, he always takes the choice ones for himself.  And when we make Hobo-Stew, I always add carrots and beans, but he only adds tree bark and old shoes.

On one hand I like the companionship--it's no fun to slowly waste away by yourself--but I have to think there is someone better out there for me.  I know beggars can't be choosers, but (as I beggar) do I have a right to choose my life-partner? 

Sincerely,

Hobo Jim

Dear Hobo Jim,

Fred is testing your limits.  Like a child, he wants to see what he can get away with.  And as with a child, you are going to have to set rules and consequences for breaking those rules.  So the next time he puts garbage in the stew, explain to him that it makes your stomach ache - then simulate this with a heavy blow to his gut.  When he deprives you of cardboard, help him understand by burning his box shanty to the ground.  Once he learns to empathize with you, your situation should improve. 

Sincerely,

The Death Adder

5.07.2001

Dear Death Adder,

My son was caught shop-lifting this weekend at the local drugstore.  He stole a Kit Kat candy bar, a potato peeler, three pornographic magazines, and a Yahtzee! game.  When I asked him why he did it, he said, "I don't know."  Death Adder, this truly stresses me as a parent.  For 14 years I raised him to the absolute best of my ability, but then I turn around for one moment and this is what happens?!?

I can't believe he would risk his future for such trivial things.  The store is filled with priceless prescription narcotics, any of which would triple their value on the street, and he steals candy bars and pornography!  What can I do? 

Sincerely,

Mother Sticky Fingers

Dear Mother Sticky Fingers,

There are three problems here: 

1) Your son is shoplifting.  As a teenager, he ought to be practicing breaking into secure buildings, not wasting time palming items - he should have mastered that by the time he was 7.  

2) He was caught in the act.  He will never establish a successful career in theft if he cannot even pocket small items unobserved.  

3) Given these facts, you choose to fret about what he steals rather than his pathetic lack of skills.  Obviously you have failed as an instructor, and ensured your son's failure as well.  

Take two cyanide pills and call me in the morning,

The Death Adder

5.04.2001

Dear Death Adder,

I am a large man.  I eat plenty.  When it's dinner time, I cram in the food without regards to the other members of my family.  I am truly a disgusting site.

This morning, as I tried to find clothes for work, I noticed nothing fit any more.  I couldn't even squeeze one of my enormous toes into an oversized sock.  Can you believe it?  So, as I lay exhausted in bed, Jesus descended from heaven and said, "Jack," (even though my name is Stewart) "you big disgusting blob, I can't believe I died for your sins.  You'll never make it to heaven so don't even try." 

Now Death Adder, I was never a spiritual man, but this moment touched me.  On one hand, I could take this as a warning and try to make something better of myself.  On the other hand, Jesus did tell me that it wasn't worth my time.  What should I do?

Sincerely,

Big Stewert

Dear Big Stewert,

I wouldn't bother if I were you.  I don't believe in Heaven, only Hell on Earth.  So I think you should continue on your famously frenetic fattening way until you get there.  And the next time you see this Jesus person, send him my way.  I have a few things to discuss with him. 

Sincerely,

The Death Adder

5.03.2001

Dear Death Adder,

There is a room in our house that my husband forbids me from going into.  I hear him inside the room working, sometimes all through the night.  I hear chains rattling, muffled thuds, the buzzing of a chain saw, and the door of a large ice chest opening and closing.  When he comes out of the room his clothes are torn and he appears to be covered in blood that is not his own.  Sometimes when we argue, he mumbles to himself, "One of these days it will be HER head in that freezer."  I'm really not sure what all this means. 

Our anniversary is coming up and I would like to get him something special.  I really want to buy him a DVD player, but he also needs a new pair of work boots because his current ones are caked with entrails.  Should I be practical or extravagant? 

Sincerely,

Confused Wife

Dear Confused Wife,

Are you insane?  I've never seen anyone as blind as you are.  Your husband is working hard every night to pay your bills and all you can think about is spending his hard-earned money?  Either one of these gifts would only be an insult of wastefulness.  Instead, show your appreciation by being thrifty.  At your anniversary meal, serve him a plate of nice, cheap dirt.  Your husband will gratefully reward you. 

Sincerely,

The Death Adder

5.02.2001

Dear Death Adder,

I'm no mathematician, but here's what I've figured out so far:  My newborn child weighs 7.5 pounds.  A large brick I found weighs 11.3 pounds.  The brick, therefore, is 151% more valuable than the baby.  So, when I traded my baby for a whole truckload of bricks, my worth increased over 100 times.  My wife doesn't see it this way.  What can I do to make her understand? 

Sincerely,

Ton o' Trouble

Dear Ton o' Trouble

It's all quite relative.  For instance, if you are using the bricks to build yourself a new castle then you were wise.  They will provide you with excellent defense, whereas a baby is soft and easily penetrated by arrows and spears, so it is relatively valueless.  However, if you have plenty of resources on hand but lack the labor to build, then you made a poor choice; extra bricks cannot move on their own, but a baby will quickly grow into a child which is easily motivated by whips, hunger, or any  number of other factors.

Sincerely,

The Death Adder

5.01.2001

Dear Death Adder, 

Usually on weekday evenings I roam the neighborhood and root through other people's trash containers.  I like to keep the wonderful things I find and I like to try on the old clothes that other people have discarded.  A few things are bothering me, though.  Sometimes I find one shoe but not the other.  Or there will be a half-eaten sandwich.  Why are people so inconsiderate?  Don't they know I want that other half a sandwich or the matching shoe? 

Anyway, a rash which started on my hands and arms has spread to my neck, head, back, buttocks, legs, and feet.  The rash also appears inside my mouth, nostrils, and under my fingernails.  The rash is red and peels and sometimes causes white bumps to appear.  I am fainting more often.  It also seems that I am more ticklish than before. 

I wonder what it is?!? 

Sincerely, 

Midnight Lurker

Dear Midnight Lurker,

Originally I was going to construct a helpful response to your plight.  But I can see from your symptoms that you will probably be dead by the time you come to read this, so I'll save myself the ink.  Better luck in the next life. 

Regrets,

The Death Adder

Read past letters to The Death Adder