Dear Pink-Hatted Kid,
It’s been nearly a year since our fateful altercation, and I’m ashamed to admit that your ploys to lull me into a false sense of security were entirely effective. I thought that this dark chapter of my life was behind me, that I was free from the fear and paranoia that mark the world of the Watermelon Ninja. They took my rank because of you, stripped me of my blade and sentenced me to two years behind the grills, but I didn’t hold it against you. I counted myself fortunate that I escaped with my life, that you had chosen to show mercy in the face of my misguided attack. How could I have been so wrong?
To your credit, the assassins you hired were top-quality. How you managed to turn Megan and Joe against me without my knowledge is as impressive as it is dastardly, and they carried out their task with a chilling level of cunning. Our weekly watermelon-batting drills were the perfect time for you to strike. In retrospect, I should have seen it coming, but it wasn’t until the watermelon slice was exploding in all of its pink, sticky fury against my head that I understood what was happening, and then it was too late. Three shots, three hits, three wounds that I’ll bear for the rest of my life.
But know this, Pink-Hatted Kid: I’m still alive, and I won’t be so careless again. Call off your agents now, and I’m willing to overlook even this most grievous of offenses for the sake of our friends and family. Attack me again, however, and I will have no choice but to bring a permanent end to our rivalry. The Watermelon Ninjas may have expelled me from their ranks, but I’ve only been honing my skills since that day. I know that you’re behind these attacks, that you’re watching me, that you’re reading this, and believe me, it doesn’t scare me one bit. If you choose to defer, I can assure you that my word is good and you’ll never hear from me again. If you prefer to continue your ill-fated vendetta, however, I must warn you: my rinds always find their mark.
Your move, PHK. Choose wisely.