Thanks to everyone for the wonderful reviews of the first post of Letters from the Hellmouth. I’m having reviews for breakfast instead of Weetabix from now on. Special thanks to KatieGirl for thinking up one of Lucretia’s lines.



The Sunnydale Evening Star
Ask Lucretia – Practical Advice for Denizens of the Hellmouth

Dear Lucretia,

Two nights ago, my old boyfriend, Huckleberry, blew into town. He tracked me down at work and caught me wearing my cow hat. I am totally mortified. He brought along his new wife, Smug Bitch (her real name). Later that same night, Huckleberry caught me in Horndog’s crypt playing hide the salami, when I was supposed to be Fighting Evil.

Huckleberry is wicked jealous of Horndog and blew up his crypt. Huckleberry wants me to dump Horndog, even though Horndog is not my boyfriend and Huckleberry is married to Smug Bitch. Also, Huckleberry claimed Horndog was selling demon eggs on the International Market for Weapons of the Really Big Nasty Kind, which I can’t understand exactly how Horndog did that, since I took away the cell phone that Horndog stole from my friend, Doofus.

I don’t think I should have sex with Horndog any more until he cleans out his basement.

Sincerely,
Joan
P.S. In case you forgot, Horndog is a vampire, but not my boyfriend.
P.P.S. I had sex with Horndog for five hours straight before Huckleberry caught up with me.
P.P.P.S. Do I have to give back the ninja wear that Huckleberry gave me?


Five hours? You go, girl! Call Merrymaids and dump that ninja suit in the nearest rubber recycle bin.

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Dear Lucretia,

I recently returned to Sunnydale from an extended trip to London. When I got back, I discovered that Joan, who is like a daughter to me, has been engaging in intimate relations with a Vampire. I can scarcely describe the horror this Horndog person inspires in me, with his peroxide blonde hair and his black clothes and cigarettes and blood-and-whiskey breath, not to mention his ludicrous long, black leather coat. He’s a liar, a thief, a murderer and a smart aleck.

How can I convince Joan that she should abandon her liaison with this Creature of the Night?

Very Truly Yours,
Joan’s Father Figure
(I have not provided my real name as I understand that anonymity in these publications is prized by the persons writing to you for advice.)


Hunh. You think Joan should give up the Five-Hour Marathon Man to run home to Daddy. Ain’t that special?

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Dear Lucretia,

It was not my fault that “Joan” went schizo and tied up everyone in the basement (except Horndog, of course, who always gets a free pass) and let a gnarly demon try to kill all her friends. It was just a little slip up with a spell. It could happen to anyone.

Horndog wasn’t my fault, either. Everyone’s trying to blame me for Joan having sex with that goofy vampire just because I did a little My Will Be Done Spell that made Joan and Horndog want to get married. That was years ago.

Joan’s Daddy says I should give up magicks completely, but I don’t want to. Okay, so things go a little wonky once in a while and my girlfriend, “Ashley” (not her real name), dumped me cause she thinks I’m a magick junky.

Is that any reason to go all Cold Turkey?

Blessed be,
Sapling
(Not My Real Name and I am so not a Magick Junky)


Nuh uh, Girlfriend! You keep right on jerking people around with your half-assed abracadabra and messing up their lives. Let me know how that works out for you.

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Dear Lucretia,

Do you know anyone who would like to buy a wedding gown? Only worn once. I could throw in a nice wish for the Bride to Be.

Wishfully yours,
Mrs. Anya Harris
(Not my real name)


Girlfriend! What do you think this is, the Sunnydale Free Shopper? This is a quality newspaper. Don’t be trying to sell your raggedy-ass old dress in my column.

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Dear Lucretia,

I can explain everything.

I was holding those damn eggs for a friend. Also, I had to steal that cell phone from Doofus. Bastard laughed at my vamp face and forced Yours Truly to resort to subterfuge. I like scrumping stuff from the little #!%*&. Joan’s a bitch for taking it away after all the trouble I had nicking it.

Joan’s ex-boyfriend messed up my crypt and he should clean it up. Also, I don’t see why my sex life should suffer just because Joan and the Walking Slab of Meat tossed around hand grenades in my bedroom.

Yours Truly,
Randy
P.S. If Joan wasn’t so high and mighty, she’d let me spend the night at her place. She’s got a comfy bed and there’s plenty of room in her knickers’ drawer for my eight black tee shirts.
P.P.S. What’s wrong with being a liar, a thief, a murderer and a smart aleck? A man has to have a hobby.


Horndog! Watch that language. This is a family paper. As for Joan, I can see that she doesn’t appreciate you. How about you come over to my place and we’ll discuss your problem? Bring a bottle of wine and don’t forget the coat.

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Dear Lucretia,

Are vampires ever gay – or bi? Just wondering.

Humbly yours,
Alexander Lavelle Harris
(My real name)


Lavelle, there are some places even Lucretia doesn’t want to go.

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