Is this some kind of sick joke that I don’t get? Is this some manner of twisted jest directed personally at me–your most loyal devotee? Are you kidding me, Dr. President Wendy Worner? Wendy’s Worner was a perfect name and you just threw it out. And for what? I am on my knees here begging for an answer–begging for things to go back to the way they were. “Wednesdays with Wendy” was bad enough, but now this horseshit?

What am I supposed to call you now? Wendy Wawa? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?? Do you even understand the position that you’re putting me in here? I have a whole team of washed-up hacks breathing down my neck at the Consensus asking me for the next Wendy Worner piece and now what am I supposed to tell them? 

I can’t help but feel like this is a personal attack on me. I thought we had something here, you and I. A rapport, if you will. The interminable game of cat and mouse we both silently played–half a campus apart. We needed each other, opposing forces in a constant struggle that gave us meaning. You were Sisyphus, I the rock. At least I imagined you happy.

But clearly you weren’t because you threw it all away. You took what we had, and you dashed it to pieces without so much as an explanation. Did you not like the article? Is that why? Are you trying to bury it in irrelevance by changing the name every time your capricious will demands? I can’t live like this, Wendy. 

That article was a celebration of you and your Worner. An ode to the joy it brought members of this community. How am I supposed to show my face there ever again, knowing how you mutilated it? “Wendy’s Worner” is an event you get life-alteringly obliterated for. It’s an event you look forward to–one painted in the landscape of your every dream. “Wawa with Wendy” is a cheap imitation, something I’d bring my aunt to.

But it’s not too late to change. There’s still time to do the right thing, to fix your mistakes. You can still be Wendy Worner. I am your most devoted disciple, I will follow you to the ends of the Earth and even farther. Yet I still know I am but a lowly worm in asking you–no, begging you–to do the right thing. I lie prostrate at your feet and I humbly plead for you to change it back to Wendy’s Worner. Do it for the greater good. Do it for the people. Do it for me.