The first thing to remember when reading R. K. Overton's Letters to Rollins is that if God had intended Henry Rollins to be a children's entertainer, he'd have given the singer-writer a much thinner neck. The second thing to remember is that some of the people walking this earth are very, very twisted. You need to remember these things because, even though the letters in this book seem thorough and realistic, they are entirely fictional. They are products of Overton's industrious imagination. But don't let that stop you.

The premise of Overton's Letters is described in the foreword, which is in itself a fictional account of a conversation between the author and Rollins. "I explained how I wanted to present a side of Henry to the world that most people don't know about, the Henry Rollins that I know, the Henry Rollins who arrives at every show of his with a box full of puppies -- cute, lovable puppies that he gives out for free."

The book doesn't live up to its premise, however; its letters reveal Rollins' continual failure to a children's' audience. The book chronicles the reactions of this new child audience, its parents, teen fans and Rollins' publisher through a collection of characters whose letters in turn praise, chide, and in one instance, threaten the singer's latest career move.

In the first batch of letters, we are introduced to Overton's fabricated fan base. There is Jeff Patterson, who philosophizes about the meaning of Rollins' Black Flag and Search and Destroy tattoos. There is Steve Potempkin, who is carrying on a blistering game of Battleship with Rollins through the mail (and losing badly). There is Timmy, the little boy who wants to know why Henry doesn't "wriet songs about boogers or spiders."

Timmy's mother, Carol Caldecott, quickly lets Rollins know what she thinks of him. "My son Billy loves skateboarding," she writes. "But lately I've had problems getting him to wear knee pads and a helmet when skateboarding because in a recent interview in Thrasher magazine, you said: "Knee pads are for pussies. Helmets too.'" She urges Rollins to take responsibility for his younger, more impressionable fans. Successive letters escalate the argument, bringing her religious fundamentalism into the picture. The letters from Timmy, her youngest son, continue -- untouched by his mother's overprotectiveness.

Publicist Larry Lockhart keeps Rollins up-to-date on recent developments in the singer's attempts to break into the children's market. Apparently Rollins punched Oscar the Grouch during the taping of a Sesame Street episode as well as the manager of another kids' show called Puppet Town. Overton himself writes letters to Rollins in this book, some of which reveal that Lockhart had botched more than a few publicizing jobs in his past. Overton concerns himself with Rollins' ability to come through the bad press (and Lockhart) unscathed. He also composes a series of quasi-philosophical arguments for the singer, many of them centered around the concept of time.

Kimberly Evans is an adolescent girl who carries on a one-sided love relationship with Rollins through her letters. "Are we pen pals even though you don't write back?" She asks. "Can I give you a pet name, even though I don't even know you?" Later, when Rollins comes to perform in her city, she kisses him. Her father finds out and pursues him at a later concert. "[My friend Jill] was there. She said my dad was yelling at you from the side of the stage, and since he was off duty there was no way you could have known my dad was a cop."

Rollins also gets his share of threats from a man named Carl Plaske, who worked at Puppet Town during the altercation there and who was bullied by the famous singer during their high school years. Plaske's bitterness about a series of failed jobs contributes to his air of recklessness and instability. "But if there's one thing I am certain about these days, it's that this world can do without Henry Rollins." Plaske is apprehended before he can harm Rollins, and the final letter in the Plaske series is from Carl's father, who asks for clues to his son's mad ramblings in prison.

Not only do the characters in this book have clearly defined personalities, Overton gives them their own letterheads, typefaces, and other idiosyncrasies that make their correspondence more authentic. Some have coffee stains or misspellings, others -- like the business letters from Lockhart and golf pro Chip Taylor -- are crisp and businesslike. The letters from Kimberly Evans are always punctuated with a happy face and the word "smile" in curly teen-girl letters. Even the signatures are distinct.

So I was surprised when I called 2.13.61 (Rollins' own publishing company, which produced Letters) and they told me these letters weren't real. Just because I never saw Rollins on Sesame Street doesn't mean it couldn't happen. This book made me wonder what kind of letters Rollins really gets -- if they're any different than the ones Overton created for this book. All in all, the truth is probably still stranger than fiction.

This article was originally published in Addicted to Noise.