Hey Big G, long time reader, first time writer. Anyways, I have a question for you: My nerdy English teacher is moving to Alaska next year, and I wanted to know if there is anything I could do to get him to stay, or possibly leave sooner?

Sincerely,
Needs Interesting Conclusion for Kainotophobic Situation

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Dearest NICKS,

Note well that from where I dwelled, there is not this problem of displacement across space. No matter how far flung ones colleagues are in the Great Blue-black Deep, it is but a matter of sinking to the dense, salty depths, and our cracks and utters, our electrical tingles and twitches, can be transmitted free and clear all about this great, wet, stoney sphere. In the sea, there is but one party, with one room, and we are all invited— except the seals and sea-lions. Crass, they are. Crass, and always the bringing of pre-packed foods to the potluck. When an Architeuthic invitation speaks of "potluck" and "bringing a dish for to pass," we are not intending for you to bring a single bottle of Coke the Cola, or a "grab bag" of the porked rinds!

But, digression befalls me. Let it suffice to say that there is a party in the Deep and all are invited (save above exception), and as such, the problem of spatial displacement vexes us nought.

But, note that this is indeed a problem which much concerns you Dwellers on the Searing Dirt. Much is written, filmed and sung on the topic of "Shall I to Stay, or Shall I to Go?" (thank of to yous extended toward Rob for introducing me to these great aural philosophers, The Clashers), and how one might address the stayings and goings of others of some minor import to their lives, great and small.

The commonest approach to retarding forward progress is to attack the mode of progression— much as time and again those Scions of Hazzard County found call to make a flattening of the tires of the cruiser of Peace Officer Roscoe, or partially dismantle the engine of Peace Officer Cletus, or to be-sugar the fuel tank of the Bossy Hogg.

The solution then is obvious: to prevent the nerdy englishman's flight, the best modus is to remove his legs. My research indicates that one should progress in such a matter as such: Apply a tourniquet high up upon the hams and immobilize the clever hand-parts. In several weeks, the lack of circulation will cause for the necrotizing limbs to fall away like the leaves of autumn.

I am correct in assuming that humans do not currently regenerate limbs, yes? There has been confusion on this subject in the past.

If a speedier resolution is necessary, I suggest forgoing the bounding-and-waiting phase, and simply appealing to the offending legs with several stout whacks of the ax after applying the appropriate tourniquets. An acetylene torch may also be of use to have at hand, for the purpose of cauterizing wounds and thus stopping any excessive bleeding.

Sang has noted that a footless man might well acquire a wheeled chair. As such, caution dictates that you also remove his arms— amputating no lower than the elbow jointure. Sang further indicates the possibility of a motorized model of chair. As for the matter of the motorized chair of wheels, you most certainly must remove all appendages as close to the trunk as possible and immobilize the neck (I suggest breaking and fusing all cervical vertebrae.) Or, make to cross the fingers that this nerdy englishman simply cannot afford such extravagant conveyance.

Of course, all of this begs the question: why not simply render him completely paralyzed? Or cease his living altogether and have the remains taxidermied and mounted in a pleasing manner? Is this not, perhaps, the time to think without the box, NICKS?

We few mathematicians of the sea (show to me a cuttlefish who claims to be mentally equipped to construct a geometric proof, and I shall show you a damned lying cuttlefish!) are well aware that their is an Inverse Relationship wedding Addition to Subtraction. As such, if it is the case to retard progress we must remove legs, then it is a simple matter to enhance progress: we must add legs. As such, I suggest you graft no fewer than four additional legs to this nerdy englishman, so as to best speed him ever Northward.

I Remain,
The Giant Squid