Claude (A fictional Character)

Dear Claude,

Ahhhh Claude, where do I start?? You are a man of many words, a man of mystery, but mostly a person of interest. The cops have been calling. They have also been by our place about 3 times this month. And we don’t even have a place so you can imagine how annoying that’s been. You know, when Shawn and me created you, we had no idea what kind of a hassle and turmoil you would bring to us. We are actually quite disappointed. It was something we did out of the goodness of our hearts. I objected at first, but Shawn pointed out to me how sad it was that we didn’t know anyone named Claude. We discussed the ramifications of creating a person, and we decided the risk was worth the benefits of having a Claude in our lives. Sadly, you have destroyed any bit of optimism and hope Shawn and I had left that there could be some good done in this world. He is now a bitter skeptic as am I. I have tried to give you the benefit of the doubt. I tried to reason that maybe you were a little overwhelmed with the fact that you went from being an idea to being a human. I can see how there might be some stuff that you might want to do considering you were nonexistent and now you have a body and stuff. I was patient as you slept with all of my friends, stole: my car, my wallet, my parents, and my cat. I even defended you when Shawn suggested maybe you weren’t the best decision we ever made and we should kill you off like the fictional character that you were. But now it’s too late. You are out of our realm. We don’t even have the power to destroy you anymore. We’ve been banished from our jobs, families, friends and the City of Quincy has exiled us. You have reaped destruction and abuse on everyone in our lives. Of course they blame us. If it weren’t for me and him creating you on a whim that boring night then you never would have had the chance to say…Rape my kindergarten teacher, kill Stephanie’s fish (I know that was you) plant poison ivy in playgrounds, and draw mustaches on Mary and Jesus statues in all the cities churches. So now we are living in the Rockport State Park because the mob is angry and they want is dead. We are hiding out here now with no food, no running water, we are using creepy outhouses that inhabit God knows what kind of livestock, all we have is each other, oh and this computer I managed to smuggle up here and run off the windmills energy for the purpose of writing this letter. We can’t even make out or take our clothes off because of all the nature-seeking people that stroll through this park day in day out. There is no privacy Claude. Me and Shawn NEED privacy. I’m asking you to turn yourself in. Or at least make your wrongs right and turn over a new leaf. Think of what kind of man you could be with the name Claude. You could use it for good not evil. Men named Claude weren’t put on this earth to molest small boys and kill butterflies. That’s what men named Michael Jackson and George Bush are for. Not Claude’s though. Claudes are crime fighters, Claude James Claude. They are ladies men LL Cool Claude. They bring gifts to children, Santa Claude, They rap, Claude Face Killah, They are songwriters, Claude Dylan. They are lovers, Claudio and Juliet. They are even the almighty himself, Claude.
So please, find it in you to disappear. Leave this world that you aren’t even from. Let me and Shawn have our lives back. Two people can only stare at a view of the ocean for so long. We don’t need to see you again. You don’t have to make contact with us. Just kill yourself off. We are no longer the owner’s of your life. Think of all the heartache you will be preventing if you put an end to this now. It’s got to be very obvious to you by now that you have an affinity for young boys. How many of their lives do you want to ruin. How much more damage must be done before you are stopped. The police will find you someday. They are onto you. There is a certain characteristic me and Shawn gave to you that first night you were created that not even you know about. We told the police about it, and it will speed up your capture. Your leaving a trail and you don’t even realize it. Do you really want to spend the rest of your fictional life in a prison? Prisoners don’t like pedophiles and you can imagine the kind of fun they will have with a guy name “Claude” I mean think about it, your name is Claude, you will never survive in there. Claude the pedophile…I bet they already have plans for you. They are anxiously awaiting your arrival. So end it now. End your life so we can take back ours. We’ve learned our lesson. We aren’t God. We don’t have the right to create people. There is a reason there are only so many Claude’s in this world and we will just have to deal with the fact that none of them are our friends. I mean it sucks, cause seriously how cool would it be to scroll through our phonebooks and come across the name Claude, it would be so funny to casually be like ”Oh excuse me for a second I gotta make a quick call to Claude” can you imagine peoples reactions to that…Oh wait sorry …..Never mind I’m getting carried away with myself. This is about you. I am writing this to plead with you. End it. There is only one way to do it though and that is the last thing we do have control over. The method of your suicide. I’m hoping that by the time this letter reaches you and hopefully it reaches you deep within your heart and conscience you will have decided its for the best. So here’s what you do, you draw a picture of yourself. A picture of what you looked like when you were first created. Not after you got that plastic surgery and the chin implant and frosted your tips so as to look good to the younger fellas. And not before you started dressing in that snakeskin jacket and silk shirt with the Italian gold horn around your neck and you grew your nails so long. And Claude, seriously the Italian Horn, Your name is Claude you clearly aren’t fooling anyone into believing that your from Jersey. Moving on, you draw a picture of what you looked like on that first innocent and hopeful night when you came to us from our thoughts. And you eat it. You eat the picture and you will vanish with it. And everyone will forget of your awful existence and the damage you have done will be repaired. Young boys will forget about the ‘special ice cream field trips’ you took them on. Animals in the Quincy area will grow their fur back, toilets and plumbing will function again, lollipops and candy will not have any traces of acid left one them and life will return to normal. I hope this letter finds you as I am sending it to every priest in the Boston area as I can only assume they have become allies of yours since you all share a very significant common interest. Once again, this was not our plan for you. We really had the best intentions for you. We thought you would be a man who’s caliber would only compare to that of Charles Reinhardt. We thought our Claude would be the talk of the town, the man everyone wanted to meet, that hip new guy in town, Claude. But you clearly had other ideas. And for that I am sorry. Shawn is too upset to discuss the issue any further but I know he is sorry too. We have learned a valuable lesson and that lesson is we are not God and you are not Claude. Not the Claude we had imagined at least. So please go home, go back to the place in our minds and be that cool guy we had always thought of you as. Goodbye and good luck in this decision.

Yours Affectionately,
Mom and Dad