To: Crecente
From: Bashcraft

Back when my wife was in the hospital, my front door would ring at very random times in the afternoon. I'd go out and check, and there was no one there. Like most apartments in Japan, the front door has automatic locks, so regular people can't just walk in — you gotta be buzzed in. There's only four people who live on my floor, so who was ringing my doorbell?! With all that was happening personally, trying to do work and finish a book, it was driving me batty.

Coming back from the supermarket, I spotted a gaggle of neighborhood kids making noise as they took the elevator to the top floor. None of the kids live in my building, but rather, in nearby pre-fab houses. They must've snuck in when the doors were closing or something. Ditching the groceries, I hoofed it up the stairs and saw them ringing a random person's doorbell and dashing back into the elevator where I was waiting.

"I know what you're doing," I said, calmly. "I know your parents, too. I have their phone numbers. All of them."
Of course, I had no idea who their parents were. Still, the kids looked at me google-eyed.
"Do you want me to call them? I will."
A girl with puffy hair, about to cry, pointed to the little boy, saying "It was his idea."
"I don't care whose idea it was. Don't let it happen again. Okay? I will call your parents."

Ten, fifteen minutes pass, and my intercom buzzed. It was the kids. They were downstairs, standing in front of the building. One of them squeaked something about putting a letter in my mailbox downstairs. I went downstairs, saw them waiting outside, faces pressed up against the glass. I pulled the pink Disney I'm Sorry note out of mailbox. Hit the jump for what it read:

What you missed last night
Exercise in GTA IV hyperbolism
Favre mehs Madden
More Okami IGN watermarks!
Ghostbuster hands on
Where Bionic Commando and Nintendo stand
GTA IV FAQ

Well. I'm truly sorry. This is my letter. I'm in second grade and look like this: [KID DREW HIS FACE] I'm truly sorry. From SOME KID.

I'm sorry about ringing your doorbell and running away. I think is disturbed the people in this apartment building. I won't do it again. From SOME KID.

I'm sorry about ringing your doorbell and running away. This is what my hair looks like: [KID DREW HER HAIR] From SOME KID, third grade, 9 years old.

Continued on the back —

I'm in second grade and 8 years old. This is the type of hair I have: [KID DREW HER HAIR] I'm didn't ring your doorbell, but I'm sorry about sneaking into the apartment building. I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry. From SOME KID.

Actually, I kinda feel bad for the kids in my neighborhood. It's very urban with few places to play — hence me not getting pissed off at them, but just trying to get them to, you know, stop.

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