Dear Aunty Stanky,

Since choices branch off into the multiverse, I am concerned my intrusive thoughts are creating
alternate universes where I tickle randos, drive into oncoming traffic, throw babies, and (mostly)
die in excruciatingly dumb ways. How can I prevent these multiverses from becoming their own
demented realities for the sake of my poor, poor mother?



Dear Multi-worst –

What a startling coincidence? In an unbelievable twist of fate, I actually met a you from another reality
who’d managed to slip through some crack between alternate worlds and wind up in my bathtub. Can
you imagine?
Anyway, after the obligatory period of adjustment after the embarrassing meeting, we had a long
discussion about his future in this new universe, and more importantly, the difficulties he’d face with
another version of himself running around.
Now, don’t get angry, but I found myself liking him, well, more than you, I’m afraid, so I wound up giving
him a few ideas on how to address his little problem. Oh, and a vial of a very nasty poison with some
very specific instructions on its most efficacious usage.
I’d say more, but I doubt you made it this far, you poor thing.

Always RIP-pingly your

Aunty Stanky

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