An Open Letter To
The Loch Ness Monster
Ness, baby. How long’s it been, huh? Forty years? Fifty? My hands, atrophied by age, shake as I write this letter on hotel stationery. After half a century, my life has dragged me back to this place—I can never escape you. Do you still think about our time together, Ness? I do. All those summers spent on the loch, desperately chasing the idea of love - or the idea of a really fuckin’ cool lake monster, I was never quite sure. Those sexuallycharged glances across the lake. All that time spent playing hard to get only made the fire in my heart (and my loins) rage all the brighter. We had some wild rides in those summers before the war, Ness. Remember all those times at the drive-in movies, late that summer? We shared a popcorn—my hand and your tentacle brushed, ever so gently, and that was the beginning. Do you remember the first time we made love? You, with your four inch-long razor sharp teeth. Me, with my scuba suit and my specially-made steelreinforced condoms. God, you had a great set of lake lizard tiddies. Still do, if an old man can be candid. But that’s just it, Nessy. I’m an old man now. When I left for the war, you told me you’d be waiting when I got back. And you were—but I was a foolish coward. I threw it all away, Ness. I threw it all away because I was afraid of the love that a young man and a 300-foot long lake lizard could have for eacthrh other in this cruel, cruel world. I made a life for myself in the states after the war—a good life, a wife and kids. But I would give it all away for five more minutes with those seaweed green eyes; that hard, scaly skin; that sweet, sweet lizard booty you could bounce a dime off of. By now, I’m sure you’ve moved on. I hope you’re happy now, I really do. I hope you’ve found yourself a man who satisfies you both emotionally and sexually, and maybe even financially. I don’t know if you buy things, as you are a 300-foot long lake lizard with tentacles instead of feet, but even I know a girl deserves a new pair of Gucci every once in a while, even if they do have to be a size 3100 and completely waterproof. I miss you, Ness. And that’s okay; we both went our own ways. We had to have room for ourselves to grow—I needed to learn to become a real man, not the young, wistful soul you knew me as, and America is no place for a 300-foot long lake lizard with tentacles instead of feet. But I hope you would be proud of the man I’ve become, Ness. I know I’m proud of the 300-foot long lake lizard that you’ve become. And if you ever find yourself stateside, don’t be a stranger. I promise, all the old hardware still works just as well as it did fifty years ago. You bring the wine, I’ll bring the steel reinforced condoms. Sound like a deal?
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