“Dear Mom, I no longer fear Hell, for I have been to Kamp Krusty. Our nature hikes have become grim death marches. Our arts and crafts center is, in actuality, a Dickensian workhouse. Bart makes it through the day clinging to his unwavering belief that Krusty the Klown will come through. But I am far more pessimistic. I am not even sure if this letter will reach you, as the normal lines of communication have been cut. Now my efforts of writing has made me light-headed. So I close by saying, SAVE US! SAVE US NOW! Bart and Lisa.”
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