Dearest Abigail,

I fear this dreadful war will never end. Each day I patrol my floating platform walking back and forth; yet, General Bowser does not tell me why I am guarding it. Last week I met Red Shelled Koopa we talked of youthful days skiing and not having traction because of flat dinosaur feet in Ice World 6 and summers spent in Sand World 2, building castles and smashing blocks that are actually tiny people. He left and walked off the floating platform and into a large hole, I continued walking back and forth; it is my duty.

Yours,
Atticus Koopa.

Dearest Abigail,

The koopas speak of a mustached Italian man who can grow and shrink just by eating one of our mushrooms that spew forth from our floating question mark boxes; I assume it is the koopas slipping into dementia. I asked the koopas why we do not simply remove the boxes if they are helping the Sicilian brute; they merely shook their heads in confusion.

I miss your dinosaur face,
Atticus Koopa

Dearest Abigail,

I visited the Koopa infirmary yesterday, April the 6th; the things I saw would make your skin crawl, koopas wandering around without their shell, ivs sticking out of their arms, muttering about their friends being burned alive by a plumber carrying a flower. This is no way for a dinosaur to live. I no longer fear the fire world, as I am already there.

Always,
Atticus Koopa