I IM’d my youngest to go to bed a few minutes ago, and was greeted by the following auto-response:
I am sorry, for I am…at this moment… laughing evily at the idea of doom, made by me!
If you need me look out the widow to see a missle coming for you, duck, sweep the ash off you and read the note that was on the missle.
That will tell you my ID, name, and evil number… if this paper was blow up…too bad!
Warning!: missle MIGHT dostroy you, or crack your neck…
la la la, no one dostroyed in this room, ignore the smoke coming from the key hole.
While I’m happy to see he’s flexing his creativity, his spelling is still somewhat whimsical. Then again, no worse than Sarah’s when we got married…. (But her grammar was — and is — better!)