Insofar as this legal agency is concerned, you have ceased to exist as a human being. This may come as a shock to you; we are terribly sorry for any inconvenience we may be causing by bringing you this news. But we are in possession, at this agency, of a very large and very powerful computer, and the computer's massive and intricate filing system indicates that you no longer exist. Please take this under advisement.
You should be aware of the exhaustive research that was required of our legal team in pursuit of the verification of this finding. A paralegal, who is paid an exorbitant rate by the hour and is already harried with many other tasks, had to travel via the elevator from our main office down to the records vault to ascertain the correct spelling of your middle name. He then had to return his findings back to our main office floor and manually keypunch the required information into the computer, subtracting still more valuable minutes from what little time was available for him to perform his duties. As such, you will be receiving a bill attached to this letter, with the amount circled in red indicating your outstanding balance which you must satisfy as reimbursement for the services rendered by our in-house paralegal.
Further, in compliance with federal regulations, we were required to have the report of your non-existence verified by a governmental office, at additional cost to us. A courier was sent with an envelope full of pertinent papers from our location over to their location, and one of their employees had to take each piece of paper out of the envelope one by one and look at them, individually, with his eyes. His eyes are not what they used to be, so he had to put on special lenses that attach to the bridge of his nose and behind his ears via a supportive wire frame, and look again at some of the very small writing that was written on the paper. He had to use his brain to create thoughts, and his central nervous system to translate those thoughts into muscular actions that allowed him to take a red pen from his breast pocket and make marks on some of the papers we had sent him. He then had to turn his entire body 45 degrees to the left, pick up a stamp, and stamp the front page of the papers with it. After all of this, he had to sort all of the papers and put them in an envelope to be returned to our office by yet another courier.
At this point, I'm sure you can appreciate all the trouble we have gone to in relaying this message to you, and it has undoubtedly dampened what might be a slight feeling of discomfort at the receipt of news that you no longer exist in corporeal form as an entity on this planet. We will not be surprised in the least if you draft an apology letter to us, as an attempt to repay us for our efforts and hard work in regard to this matter. It wouldn't be the first time we have received such a letter, and really it's little more than an act of common courtesy. We would go so far as to say you would be remiss in not sending us a kind thank-you letter and a small present.
Is that really too much to ask? This is a personal request from the writer of this letter, to you. I've been asked not to use my name, only the names of my employers, but this has become a highly personal correspondence. All I ask for in return for my generous notification letter is a thank you, a gift, and a warm embrace and a kiss. Just a hug and a kiss! I may not look like much, but I think I could make you really happy. We could build a happy home together and prepare meals and get in a playful laundry fight in the laundry room, and get on a plane and take a trip to a place that neither of us has ever been to but we both will pretend to know a lot about. We could dog-sit for friends when they're out of town and child-rear when the time is right. That's all I ask.
Any appeals to this highly urgent legal matter may be lodged at the court office on the 27th of next month, starting at 8:00 AM. We suggest that you get there early to avoid an extended wait time period.
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