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Open Letter: Re: Re: Re: Give me five minutes alone with a minion

 

Chris Meledandri, CEO

Illumination Entertainment

Santa Monica, CA 

Hey Chris, 

It’s me again. You haven’t responded to my emails or letters, so I guess you’ve left me with no choice but to go public. In 2008, you opened a portal to my own personal heaven. When you announced the development of Illumination Entertainment’s first film, Despicable Me, you changed my life.

That door made me realize that there’s a hole in my heart – a hole where a jaundiced, three feet and seven inches tall, banana-loving, immortal being belongs. 

I’m not talking about Tom Cruise. I’m talking about the greatest discovery of the 21st century: The minion. 

The minion is such a plump and prodigious creature that I know for a fact that you, Mr. Meledandri, did not invent it. You just discovered it. Here is what my research has revealed. 

The minion is male but lacks genitals. The minion can glow when snapped and shaken. The minion is a serial gaslighter.  The minion is capable of surviving in space and underwater, and also has no bones. All of these characteristics match with my very specific preferences that are listed in my Grindr profile. 

There is no question that the discovery of the minion is a sign from a higher power that the hole in my heart is soon to be filled. Already, seven terabytes of minion fan art are on my laptop. I keep my video off in Zoom calls because of the dozens of minion figurines and life-size anatomical models that crowd my room. This behavior is not indicative of some fake “fan.” 

This is a sign of love. 

I wasn’t born yesterday. The facts are undeniable. I know that minions are real. More importantly, I know that I am in love with them. 

Here’s what’s gonna happen, Christopher. You’re going to introduce me to a minion, preferably Stuart. There’s obviously an age gap, but hopefully, Stuart will realize that I’m mature for my age. Besides, age is just a number, and Stuart certainly is more than just a number to me. We’ll be friends at first, but then he’ll open up to me. We’ll share bananas. He’ll teach me his language, introduce me to his friends. Soon, another banana will get involved. I am not referencing my penis, but the banana passed down through my family for male heirs to give to their suitors as a marriage gift. Five years later, we get married. You’re the guest of honor. 

We have kids. They’ll be bullied for being half minion and half-human, and having them will require some biological magic, but they’ll be beautiful, and they’ll be ours. 

Anyway, Chris, I need you to introduce me to them, or else I’ll sell my considerable minion memorabilia collection and use it to buy out your shit animation studio. And then I’ll produce a terrible film called Despicable Me Six, and it’s going to be two hours of people screaming about how awful and annoying you are. 

The banana is in your court. 

Best Wishes, 

Eamon  

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