Ask the Unknown

An Advice Column for Those Who Can’t Be Bothered

Dear Mr. Unknown,
I never thought I would be writing to advice columnists who started out as world-famous hypertext novelists, but you know what they say, if we knew what we were going to do or what was going to happen most of us would probably be paralyzed by depression and/or fear. I know I would. Anyway, I’m writing about my boss, who also happens to be my landlord, and we’re engaged, too. With three cats. And a hamster, Hammy. At least we used to have a hamster. It’s been missing for several days and that’s why I’m writing. Lately, I’ve come to believe that my boss, “Myrtle,” killed Hammy. And ate him. I think she cooked it first, but I can’t be certain. I don’t really have any proof, but “Myrtle” seems singularly unaffected by Hammy’s disappearance and keeps making sick jokes about “Hammy-burgers” and asking supposedly “theoretical questions” like why it is that pot pies always are made out of chicken or beef but never, say, hamster or parakeet. I’m worried about our cats, Mr. Unknown, but don’t know how to talk to “Myrtle” about my concerns. She has quite a temper sometimes. I need my job and I don’t want to spoil the wedding because “Myrtle” is a nice person really, even if she did kill Hammy. Accidentally, I’m sure. What do you think I should do?

—Not Sure

Dear Knothead:

Man, what a depressing life. You don’t say whether you have a computer, but I’m guessing not since your letter was written in lipstick and charcoal (hey, sharpen those briquettes a little more next time, Knotboy, your handwriting is way too hard to read as it is). Anyway, if you don’t have a computer, go out and buy an iMac immediately and plug into the Net. Log onto The Unknown and immediately go to winelist.htm. Buy some of the recommended beverages. Imbibe. Continue reading The Unknown. If the spirit moves you, sample some of the other controlled substances mentioned in the hypertext. Continue reading The Unknown. And don’t bother writing again. I could give a hamster’s ass.

—The Unknown