From The Desk Of The Loch Ness Monster
Scottish Highlands, U.K.
Dearest Friends, Fans, & Former Lovers:
I greet you today from the murky depths of my legendary home with a heavy heart. I have recently been told that I am one of the millions of creatures on this Earth who will be afflicted with Alzheimer’s disease. Suddenly, the scores of amateur zoologists and boarish History Channel film crews who parade daily through my otherwise serene habitat seem like the smallest potatoes imaginable.
Upon learning this news, I had to decide whether as a famous creature of mystery I would keep this a private matter or whether I would make it known in a public way. We all saw what happened to the Yeti when he went public with his Parkinson’s Disease. The tabloids ran a ghoulish death watch, robbing the once mighty snow beast of a quiet dignity he may have enjoyed had he kept the matter to himself.
Yet the Abominable Snowman was just one case. Ultimately, I decided any embarrassment suffered from open disclosure would be offset by the perceived spike in public awareness of Alzheimer’s. Perhaps my coming forward would encourage people, animals, and plants the world over to undergo testing. That alone seemed like justification enough. Besides, Yeti was always the media’s whipping boy to some extent. They never forgave him for mauling that royal Persian fellow in the 1940s.
At the moment, I feel fine. I intend to live the remainder of the years God gives me in this Loch doing the things I have always done—eating small defenseless fish, teasing humans by occassionally breaking the surface, and working on my numerous jigsaw puzzles (I’ve nearly got that farmhouse done!). I will continue to share life’s journey with my beloved fellow cryptos such as Bigfoot and the Jersey Devil. I plan to enjoy causing intense scientific debates and drunken bar room fist fights for as long as possible. I also plan to stay in touch with all my Hollywood friends and supporters.
Unfortunately, as Alzheimer’s disease progresses, said friends and supporters often bear a heavy burden. I only wish there was some way I could spare my close personal friends George Clooney and Jennifer Aniston from this painful experience. When the time comes, I am confident that with your help they will face my ailment with faith and courage.
In closing let me thank you, the citizens of the world, for giving me the great honor of allowing to reign as the freakiest unknown sea creature this side of Gomez the Giant Japanese Squid. When the Lord calls me home, whenever that may be, I will leave with the greatest love for this planet of ours and eternal optimism for its future (so long as you all keep recycling and working in general to reduce your carbon footprints).
I now begin the journey that will lead me into the sunset of my life. If you never hear from me again, let me assure you that it has been, as the kids say, real. I have no regrets. Let future generations know that, yes, there was in fact a “Nessie,” he loved chunky peanut butter, and he secretly yearned to be a dancer.
Thank you, my friends. May God always bless you.
The Loch Ness Monster