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DEAR SPARTAN
Advice From History's Deadliest Warrior
(Week of 8/5)
Dear Spartan,
Today, I was taking a shower, and I knicked my leg with the razor. It hurt a little but it bled a lot. It kind of freaked me out. How can I avoid cutting myself in the future?
-Miss Curious in Alhambra
Dear Miss Curious,
You are nothing but weakness. I take joy in your pain, and understand that I do not take joy in many things. Your pain brings me happiness as I wait for the impending battle. When I shave, I do so with my mighty spear. By dulling the blade with my flesh I sharpen my own character. Tremble in my wake.
-Spartan
Dear Spartan,
My neighbor keeps coming into my yard at night and stealing my lemons. I don’t really know how to deal with it. Should I talk to him or should I build a higher fence or what? Can you give me some advice?
-Lemon-less in El Monte
Dear Lemon-less,
Talk? A Wall? For me, a mere line in the sand and my unflinching stare forms a greater barrier than a wall of iron and stone one thousand meters high. My stare can shatter then confdence of the million-man armies of Persia. My only misfortune is no man is brave enough to cross that line in the sand, and I must continue to wait for the day I can bathe in the bile and blood that would pore forth from their corpses.
-Spartan
Dear Spartan,
I think my wife is going to leave me. She talks to other men a lot, and I want to know if she loves me. How can I bring this up without her thinking I don’t trust her?
-Mad-With-Worry in Silverlake
Dear Mad-With-Worry
My wife has already been taken from me. She was devoured by the hungry maw of a demon wolf. I hunted him, half crazed, naked, through the thick woods, leaving a path of his clan’s bodies 10 miles long in my wake. I ate naught and drank naught till I found him in a clearing with what remained of his pack. Their family was so large in number their exhalations melted the snow on the mountain peaks. Slowly, silently, I moved so like a wolf that they didn’t notice my presence until I had slit the throats of more then a hundred of them. Suddenly, they pounced, one after another struck at me and met their deaths. They gouged deep cuts in me, but mine were far deeper. When the night was through, I stook on a mountain, not of rock but of their hides and yet one wolf remained, their leader, their king, the murderer of my wife. By the next day, I had brought as many of the bodies as my massive frame could carry. It was enough to keep the town feed with wolf meat for many weeks. However, the only flesh I consumed was from their King. His meat was the sweetest.
-Spartan
Transcribed from the Spartan's handwritten scrolls by Zach Seemayer and Lev Shtrikman
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