My dearest OJ,

I wish I could be writing to you with cheerful news, but alas the dark news of the day weighs too heavily on my worried mind. As you may recall, we have a regular trivia soiree at our Indian Road Café that commences every Wednesday night at 8 - last Wednesday was no exception. However, the events of the night were most extraordinary. To begin with, we had numerous unexpected visitors in the form of brand new trivia teams. Some of the teams had a strange bearing and contained more people than our usual rules allow for. I heard a rumour they had journeyed all the way from towne to attend our event but was unable to confirm this.

Your faithful servants, Dr. Jordan and myself, did our best to placate the multitude of teams with questions from the sport of hockey, fried foods, and biology. And, though I'm not one to self-promote myself, I believe we managed the interlopers with effervescent charm, stunning wit, and unmatched humility. The teams were all above average, and they all deserved to win gift certificates. But, only one team walked away at the end of the night $25 richer and that was Seaman's Resolution: More Cumming.

The night should have been one remembered as a glowing success and a model for trivia nights everywhere, but that is not how it will be remembered. For this Wednesday was the last trivia night of January, and we had important business at hand. This Wednesday saw University of Inwood at the top of the monthly scoresheet, and should have seen them take possession of our beloved Quizmasters' Cup. But, this Wednesday there was no Quizmasters' Cup to award.

This was the note I discovered this afternoon on the floor of my flat, in the wake of the week's detritus, as I awoke for the first time from my Wednesday night carousing. Even if the IRCPQ bylaws allowed for negotiating with terrorists, the deadline has now lapsed by more than two days. I am deeply troubled by this sudden turn in our collective fortune, and I shudder to think what has befallen our beloved trophy. I now ask for your advice in this matter, and I anxiously await your reply which I've asked my man to wait for upon delivery of this missive.

Regrettably yours,
The Evil Mr. Phil