i sit here, writing to you this letter by candle light. there is no electricity in my small shack. there's no running water either. hell, i don't even know how i'm sending you an email, considering the only modernized thing in my cabin is a small waffle iron. not like i can use it, there's no electricity. whatever. just picture a small girl in a small cabin with no food. i did say there was no food, didn't i? and to think, this all begin with a llama...

flashback to 20 years ago, our tragic heroine is sitting in a small nyc apartment building... (okay. so i wasn't alive 20 years ago. get over it.)

suddenly, a knock is on the door. i walked over to the door, opened it and found a llama. i said hello to the llama. he said, "give me all your waffles!" i said, "what waffles?!" he said, "the ones in your pants!" there were no waffles in my pants. how could i give them to him?

next thing i know, i look at the llama's mouth and it's foaming. i cry out in fear and shove my way past the llama. he started chasing me. i ran to the nearest explosives store and starting throwing hand grenades. the llama seemed invincible. he dodged and weaved and dodged and ducked, never being harmed by the grenades. he came up and bit me shirt. it ripped. then he grabbed a box of grenades and ran back to my apartment.

"noooooooo!" i cried as he blew my apartment to smitherines. everything i owned was ruined. i had no money. the llama laughed as he walked away. what was i to do? i was alone on the streets! i wandered into the woods and found the little shack where i am sitting at now. i've never replaced any of my things. so, as you can imagine, the 20 year old ripped shirt isn't around anymore. yes.. that's right. i'm topless.
i've tried to come to many an ataris shows, but i'm never allowed in, due to my obvious lack of clothing.