To my Dearest Rufina,
Today marks the four hundredth day since my brave army was first
besieged by the forces of our enemy. My stalwart men do to this day
hold out against the South South Eastern Aggressors, despite having
run out of ammunition over fifty months ago. They do persist in
keeping the enemy at bay by tossing rocks and small pebbles down upon
his or her head or heads, and thus far we remain secure in our
position.
My loyal men have long since run out of food, and have been so forced
by sad circumstance as to eat their own feet for sustenance. Some of
the braver and fatter men have moved on to their calve muscles, and
even, in some cases, the lower thigh. Braver men have never been seen
on the top of this mound of horse dung where we have made our
fortifications.
I myself have been long since reduced to a diet of extremely expensive
bourbon, and occasional mouthfuls of grass, when it is in season .
Dearest Rufalina, I fear I shall never see you, nor your hot sister, again.
With dearest combulations,
General Horatio Cornburns
[Historical note: the war ended two years before this letter was written]
