Living in a fortress supported by five ultra-zeppelins is more complex than you might know. For instance, they have to catapult our mail each day as we pass over the post office. I have my bodyguard, Sikes, catch the important stuff. We used to shoot junk mail from the sky with shotguns, but the Air Force eventually asked us to stop. Now we use the heat ray during rainy days and implosion missiles when it's dry (don't want to start forest fires with cinders).
Speaking of which, a house spider just delivered word that lunch will be served on the flying buttress garden. So long for now.
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