Hey, Janie. Not sure why I’m just getting around to writing home now -- ain’t like I can mail you anything from underground. Maybe you heard -- I never made it to France. Though I guess you wouldn’t know that’s where I was supposed to be headed, before I woke up inside this monster spider nest. I tell you my skin was crawling, even before I found this home-made camera and typewriter hanging around in a cobweb. Don’t want to think about what happened to the owner, but at least it saves you having to make out my chicken-scratch handwriting. Seemed like I wandered around in the dark forever, before I managed to throw together a torch and shed some light on my situation. Right away, I wished I hadn’t -- just about everything creeping around down here is too damn big. If bugs as long as my arm ain’t weird enough for you, I saw an honest-to-God sabertooth tiger prowling around! I don’t need to tell you I kept my distance from that mean old cat. Not sure how it didn’t smell me -- I must reek to high heaven by now. Got to sign off now. Something just blew out the cave wall so daylight's shining through! Looks like there’s a tropical jungle out there. I can even hear birds calling. Can’t wait to roast up a few of those, though I’m not looking forward to having to squeeze past an eight-legged carcass the size of a bus.
Be glad you’re not here too -- BOB