Letter To Zorro

So, this is an old thing I wrote based off the latest installment of that last gang bang they called a movie, Zorro 8, or whatever it’s actually called. Hope you enjoy it!

Dear Zorro,

Sorry, you’re just not doing it for me in the superhero department. I realize that you are the liberator for all the peasants of Mexico and all, but you’re kind of a pussy. I happened to catch part of your second movie last night and while I appreciated trying to peek down the 2-D dress of your wife (Catherine Zeta-Jones), the movie was…disgustingly horrible.

Now don’t get me wrong, I realize you aren’t blessed with any superpowers and you don’t fight with guns - but you need to show your violent side a little more. It’s one thing to carve a Z into some villian’s ass, but it’s another thing to punch a guy, hopes he gets knocked out, and hopefully he’ll develop amnesia and think that Z has been on his ass the whole time. Just kill him. He’s going to go after your family otherwise. On three different occasions your son got kidnapped…THREE!

And what was the punishment? A couple of punches, a couple of quick retorts, and one “Z” cut on someone’s shirt. That’s crap. You don’t deserve to be a hero, or live, for that matter, if you keep giving everyone second, and third, and fourth, chances. They aren’t going to learn!

In fact, based on that movie, I believe your horse is the greatest horse in the world. He should be the real hero and leave you at home. In the 2 hours or so in your adventure, I witnessed the horse chase down an out-of-control locomotive not once, but twice; jump through the roof of a boxcar without breaking his from legs; and hit the switch on the tracks to avoid catastrophe. After that display of amazing accomplishments, I believe your horse also talks, reads, and does arithmetic in its downtime.

I would rather hang out with the horse than with you, Zorro. Without that horse, you’d be nothing - and I bet he’d tell better stories. So fuck you Zorro, you don’t hold a candle to your horse.

Sincerely,

Mr. P.

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