I did the math, Bungie. I was born in 1991. You've satisfied my mother in 1991. But you haven't given us any financial support in the slightest. I never learned to catch balls, throw hoops, and change those liquid things in cars because you weren't there; you left us and went West. All I've had of you were stories of your quest for world domination and sadistic rituals inlcuding keeping a dog head in the fridge. Yes, I've been told you were a crazy one, but um...well, you were a crazy one. Despite that, I've tracked you down. And now that I have your attention for once, Daddy (if I can call you Daddy? Pa, perhaps?), I only ask one thing for compensation; a beta key. It won't make up for the past 20+ years, but it may help ease our relationship for the next 10. Don't abandon me again, father. I looked into the eyes of your beheaded dog (I may have picked up some crazy from you and snuck in) and I have seen the future; it's our destiny to [something witty.]