By Streeter Seidell
Dear Godless Heathen,
You're cordially invited to spend an evening with white people next Thursday at our shitty village, located on top of your old village before everyone who lived there died of the pox. We gather to celebrate the bounty of the harvest! Your harvest, to be exact. To that end, please bring the food as we have not figured out how to grow or catch any.
Dress code: Please wear clothes, as your firm, bronzed bodies have caused some of the Good women among us to commit the grievous sin of of harboring impure thoughts unrelated to either cooking or God These women will be burned, as is our way.
Directions: Down the one road. Go until you see the beach and the monstrous wooden horses that straddle the very ocean. You can’t miss it.
Cordially, your neighbors and future landlords,
[ ] Yes! I would love to attend and ensure your health endures as God himself has willed.
[ ] No, regretfully, I must confirm all the worst suspicions you have about me, and inhumanely leave you to die.