Last Chance For Corey Feldman
                                     by Kate Muldavin

Fuck you, Corey Scott Feldman. You have broken my heart, and to add insult to injury, you did so on national television. On the motherfucking WB, no less.

Corey, I love you. I love you from the bottom of my heart and I have loved you ever since I first saw your beautiful and manly figure at the movies as you led the Goonies to victory over the evil crime syndicate against which they were fighting. I know that deep down, Corey, you love me too. And so does a homeless guy I met yesterday. This means that two people know it, Corey. So why don't you?

I know that marrying Suzi was just an attempt to sublimate your feelings for me. I know as the big, strong man you are it is difficult to express your feelings in full because large, strong men are portrayed by the media to be emotionless hulks with breathtaking physiques and gigantic penises and you are all this save the emotionless part and I love you for it.

I watched you get married on the WB a few days ago. I can't remember when, because I was so devastated I have stopped living my life in accordance with the Julian calendar and instead designate everything with respect to "Before Corey Feldman Broke My Heart By Wedding Suzi (BCFBMHBWS)" and "After Corey Feldman Broke My Heart By Wedding Suzi." We are living in the year ACFBMHBWS 0, and my life is over.

Corey, because I love you so much, and not because I am obscenely jealous of that fucking bitch-tramp whore ass shithead cunt you married, I feel compelled to warn you of your impending doom. I, as well as the rest of America, have seen the horrific entities that are Suzi's breast implants during the telecast of your wedding on the WB network. In five years, the alien fetuses that cause her cleavage to be so gigantic and that are incubating inside of her enormous rack will hatch. They will then devour you, your loved ones, and your couch. If somehow a picture was taken after they ripped our your entrails but before they ate your entrails, one could divine the future of your doomed relationship with Suzi by the age-old science of "augery," in which one tells the future based on the arrangements of entrails torn from a freshly-killed corpse. Do you know what those entrails would say, Corey? DO YOU KNOW WHAT THEY WOULD SAY? They would tell a tale of your destruction, Corey...which of course would be obvious if one also realized that they were your entrails. Okay. If a picture were taken of your entrails and nothing else except maybe a stray alien claw mid-slice before they were eaten, they would predict a horrible future for you if you continue in this madness of not being joined with me in holy matrimony.

There is hope, Corey. I can save you. Leave Suzi and come to me. I will welcome you with both open arms and open legs. You have one other option. I want to save you from being eaten alive by alien breast babies. I will kill Suzi. If you do not choose either of these, I ask you one last favor: a mere token of your essence so that I may cherish you forever. Please send a vial of your blood to:

The Foundation for the Creation of a Corey Feldman Clone Army
c/o Kate Muldavin
441 Green Acres
Memphis, TN 38117

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