April 2, 2008
Keith Dion
Director of Student Studies
Saint Studious University
Studatious, Studifornia
Dear Professor Dion,
Your letter arrived with great dispatch. Or maybe it was datpatch. Either way, it got here pretty fucking quick and came with a patch. Please send any future correspondence without patches. Patches reek of pauperism and beggary. And dearth. I don't like dearth. It's unseemly.
Anyway, to compliment the speedy delivery of your post, I've decided it only fitting to respond immediately. So I am writing this letter without having read yours first. Clearly, this will accelerate the process. If I am to keep up my end of our brisk and lively conversation I cannot be expected to slog through your letters, mulling over your thoughts and ideas.
But I must admit to being curious as to what your letter contains. It's an awfully fat envelope. I hope you will tell me about its contents someday, perhaps when we are sipping mint juleps by the septic tank while Jeffrey shoos away the black flies and screams at the poodles for their flatuletory indiscretions. I don't know what it is with those poodles. Everything they eat turns into methane. I'm convinced I could power the Rolls by hooking them up to the fuel tank and squeezing the hydrocarbons right out of their tight little poop chutes. What an afternoon of jollification that would be, eh?
Eh? Oh, I thought you said something.
Well, without having read your letter I find it impossible to comment on anything you had to say and, frankly, I consider it unreasonable of you to expect me to do so. Who do you think you are anyway? The world doesn't revolve around you and your stupid ol' unopened letter, you know. For your information, the world revolves around the sun. Hmmph. Betcha didn't know that didja? Well, it's true, wise guy. We all revolve around the sun like a horny teenager waiting for her parents to go to sleep so we can climb up the drain pipe, sneak in the second floor window, and give 'er the beef injection. That's called science, fucko.
Oh dear, how did we get to fighting again? Well, I'm sure it was your fault.
In conclusion I would like to say that this is the last paragraph of this letter, and even though it only contains one sentence, that's OK because sometimes a paragraph only contains one sentence and sometimes a sentence makes up an entire paragraph. So there. Shit. Shoulda stopped already. Damn it, now this paragraph has a whole buncha sentences. Pooh.
Awaiting your patch-less, dearth-less reply I remain,
your less-than-humble, not-so-obedient servant,
GrandMaster Bizarre
Copyright 2008 John Bizarre
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