A Narnian ship is sailing through our den.
I am not even kidding.
I’m writing this so Tim will know where to come looking for me if he comes home to an empty house: Honey, if the doors are locked and my clothes are piled in a heap on the floor, please don’t waste time checking the bedroom.
Told you I wouldn’t be there.
I’ll send a postcard from Narnia as soon as I can.
I’ll probably be home in a couple hundred years.
Think of the money we’ll make on the sequel we’ll publish. You could so retire early.
I think we’ll call it: The Last Battle Isn’t Over ‘Til It’s Over.
Battle? Did I just say battle?
Timmmmmmmmmmmm, heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeellllllllllllllppppppppppppppppp meee!
*A Note To The Reader: Please tell the bank not to foreclose our house. We’ll be back in a few hundred years.