Don't I know it! Chongo is here, eating me out of house and home and attracting occasional raids from old enemies, most of whom seem to be gorillas! I get postcards and handwritten letters from Penelope Rutledge telling me how wonderful life is in the Cotswolds and what an ass her husband is. William Shatner would call me more often, but he's terribly busy right now. Shane still owes me $20 which I foolishly lent him in a weak moment. My life is in a state of confusion, and it's all because of these various created characters.

But I have received no input of any recognizable sort from freds. I do not believe in freds. I think freds is a creation of some total idiot, someone without even a shred of mental ability or moral fiber, a drooling, knuckle-dragging ingrate of the lowest sort, a shambling, incoherent and probably impotent fencepost of a person, only fit to be peed on by a passing dog.

Who could it be?