(A follow-up by Kimberly Potts to the Portmanteau)
Dear Bandersnatch...
I thought that I would mark the time upon the Wabe.
I will never forget the uffish.
I have forgotten the poor Vietnamese borogove, and now I am relieved. I do not have to wreck my life for a rath... yet the tulgey wretch that was "You-and-Me" I will always remember vividly.
I know that I am meaningless. What does that mean, without it meaning everything? Je faive le blanc…
Remember this confabulation always: Forever. Now what does that mean? "Thank You" is what that means. I will manage without.
Bandersnatch, you have taught me how not to breathe, yet still I survive.
I refuse to understand. Go your way, I’ll go mine. UnSuffer me.
Well anyway… well anyway… well anyway… well anyway… When I am 190 years old… well anyway. Relentless, I will dream up the answers, while you close your gimbles.
Bandersnatch, beautiful stranger. I take you too seriously, really. I am your Jujug. Close your gimbles, please.
My body forsakes the jabberwocky, which tears out the life; robs a mind of sanity and life of chastity. Tragic, yet still I dream up these answers, ever galumphing.
I would not have considered Anyone for the task. Why did life strike me as perfect as a catalogue? I would have given it all to the Bandersnatch... with its frumious mouth, the mouth of a jealous star. What is right with me is wrong with it, vice-versa.
Ironically, and undeservedly, I will remember its burbles vividly and mark the brillig with a chortle… a taste of the truth: Goodbye!
Should I thank it? That seed in time? Yes! As I am still here to pray.
I now find myself un-bitter, alas confused… Relentless, but yet here.
I blame my humanness. I blame its frabjous. How quick am I to define. Mome is my Manxone Libertine, lost in mimsy. Grateful outgrabe, bitter and confused no more! I will manage without, thank you. In this the vorpal will plunge.
Never forget, Bandersnatch, because I am the carry angel, meant to protect your made-up memory. Forever I will drive you to mimsy. Alas, you are the tove that shatters the ground of The Ages. You will forever slithy upstream.
Close your eyes, Bandersnatch. You are proof of one thing (other than the fact that I cannot breathe); that I am selfish, Ruy Lopez. Gyre, my Tao still fights with the mean rath.
I win.
Perhaps we'll meet again upstream and outrun the tulgey that is You-and-Me. Perhaps we'll start the game all over again. Jabberwocky.
k.p.
