Dear Jane,

I'm sorry because I haven't written or called you. Every time I find a working computer in this damned castle and try to open anything else but national Latverian pages, the screen freezes and next thing I see is a video of Latverian anthem. I'm sick of it, especially the part where smiling children perfom folk dances around Doctor Doom's statue.

Getting pen and paper was difficult, but I told 621-161 that every head of state keeps memoirs, and if I'm not given the tools, I'm not able to document first days of my marriage. 621-161 is an idiot, so it agreed. It still hasn't noticed that I poured a bottle of nail polish on the floor, and now I recognize it from China Glaze "Afterglow"-stain on left sole. 431-532 is much smarter, and it's starting to suspect why I keep asking Doombots to walk before me or reach things from high shelves so I could see their soles.

I don't know how to say this, since I don't really want to say it at all, but I have to make you come and save me. My first grade teacher, Miss Peterson, used to say that not waiting in line will get me into troubles, but I think even she could not have anticipated this. Damn. The truth won't get any better, no matter how long I try to postpone it.

Jane, Victor von Doom married me a week ago. And before you get mad - it wasn't my fault! I didn't agree to anything! Not that my consent mattered, because Latverian law doesn't give rights to people who have committed high treason.

I was just- I'm sorry, but I have to stop now. 431-532 is knocking at my door, and I suspect it can read English.

Darcy