9-9-20
Hola Pen Pal,
Tú eres intelegente, interesante y paro uso externo solamente. Yo soy feo, pequeño y viejo. No se exponga directamente al sol mientras esté tomando medicamento.
Rechoncho señoritas venga con la vejiga llena. Nosotros agite bien antes de usar. ¿Como se dice “desvístase de la cintura para arriba” in inglés?
Perezoso la familia de mi novio: inhale una bocanada, inhale una dosis por la nariz, inhale una dosis por cada fosa nasal. Perezoso.
Estire sus brazos. Mire hacia el frente. Quítese toda todas la ropa. Diga cuando sienta dolor. Quitar el “mal del ojo.” Tú eres valiente el útero. Mucho gusto.
Póngase esta hilo. Te presentó guía de adelante emocionado. Sano miembro. ¿El ano?
Hace tres años que yo no como la carne. Yo tango que trabajar. Yo tengo que comer!
Hay muchos hombres aquí. ¿Hay una mujer en la casa? No! Tú tienes que venir conmigo. Vamos a ir de vacaciones. Azumule y traiga la orina de las últimas 24 horas. Tenemos prisa.
Yo soy amamantar,
Patricio
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9-17-20
Dear Pen Pal,
One of these days I’m going to patent an envelope that I can seal a fart in. And if you think I send a lot of letters now…
I might actually have to get a job to support all my sending.
I bet people would pay me to file their taxes…considering I’d be with unique qualifications.
…Like the ability to turn the IRS into Brokeback Sauna.
My envelopes will have a string on the short side that people can pull to open up like a gum pack. I expect the first thing a person will do once that string is unraveled is bring that envelope to eye-level so they can take a look while blowing real hard to open it up. I’ll call that little booby trap the Tasmanian Ricochet.
…I never promised anyone I’d only use my powers for good.
Did I ever tell you about the little amputee neighbor kid that I used to take to movies and amusement parks and places? That kid was nothing short of a hero. She could hold a fifth in each hollowed-out leg. I’d save at least six times whatever I paid for her ticket.
And absolutely no tolerance…back when she was still little. Nowadays you can’t take her anywhere. She turned into a goddamn horrible alcoholic.
I can’t tell you the trouble I had trying to find her replacement. I fed the other neighborhood kids pure sugar for years and not one of ’em ever caught the right kind of diabetes.
What about you? You got any fatties?
Xoxoxo,
Patrick
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9-23-20
Dear Pen Pal,
I’d like to address something with you, if you don’t mind: I have some kind interest in you. I’m sorry I’ve waited this long to inform you. The fact is, I can be kind of shy. And all your wonderful facets don’t make it easy for me to identify ways to approach you. Which means the most I dare tell you is that I think you’re incredibly smart and maybe only sort of pretty but you make up for that in friendliness and my wife is no looker either. That said, maybe you’d let me call or message you recreationally sometime?
I understand a request like this has the possibility to add layers of conflict to our current obligations, so I’ve decided I’m going to quit today, benefits be damned, and tell the old hatchet she’ll be allowed to support my intermittency while I attentively devote myself to helping my new pretty-in-the-right-light kind-of-way girlfriend form a relationship with me. Consider it a show of faith towards a potentially meaningful entanglement.
What matters to you most is that you know I’m serious. That’s why I’m going to have you draw us up some contracts for my custody arrangement–I expect you both will sign and shake hands by the end of the day. (It feels kind of weird knowing that’s the last order I’ll be giving as your boss. It’s really very liberating, wouldn’t you say?)
Of course I don’t expect either of you to lay ink blindly, not knowing exactly what all you’re getting into, so I’ve scheduled us a threesome at noon, where I’ll let you formally introduce yourself and apprise her of the fact that you’ll be applying to become my newly appointed guardian, therefore access to her Netflix and credit cards would be a big help. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you the importance of this meeting, which is why you’ll also call my karate-dance instructor and reschedule for tomorrow.
Historically speaking, your try-out with my wife is bound to finish early, meaning that we’ll still have a good 55 minutes for lunch. So why don’t you go ahead and schedule that somewhere nice? I’m thinking cute and nostalgic…preferably with a ballpit and slide.
Now, keeping in mind it’s doctor-recommended that I wear a helmet when I get excited…and remember how my wife accidentally slammed both her hands in my car door?…well, that dummy lost all dexterity in her shoe-tying fingers, so you’ll need to run the comb through my helmet hair and prep my afternoon. Also, I don’t know whether you’ve noticed, but Kirby’s been wearing his bangs in a wave. So you’re going to need to do a better wave than Kirby’s, and it’s probably best if we go with dinosaur-wing shoes.
I wouldn’t worry to much about how to draw them on. You can use the stencil that I made for when we tattoo your face.
Now then, I’m sure you have opinions?
That’s cute. I bet they’re important, too.
Well, you should probably get back to work so I can call your husband. It looks like somebody’s going to have themselves a little extra free time…
Cc: Linda, Janice, Deb (from accounting),
Patrick
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9-24-20
Dear Pen Pal,
It was nice outside this morning. And apparently I’m back on weird guy status, which most everybody is already use to. So it’s not that big a deal. Funny story, though…
So, in the rec cages the other day, a guy was talking about a friend who found a note on the windshield of his car, which was sitting in his apartment’s parking lot. It said something to the effect that he had an admirer who enjoyed watching him leave every morning for work.
The next day, another note, describing how he was attractive. The next day, another one, wondering if they might be able to share an intimate moment. And it was somewhere around the fourth day where the note described how its author must just be needing a good fist in his asshole because, by now, his admiree is driving him crazy.
Of course the other guy listening to this story with me thought it was just crazy as all hell. And while they’re both mulling over what kind of sinister f*** would do such a thing, I told them it reminded me of The Notebook.
So now the conversation turns into what kind of sinister f*** I am for the next two days. To which I assume I’m the best kind. But all I can do is tell them I’m equally disturbed by the sociopath that doesn’t appreciate a good love story.
Sometimes I don’t understand how it is that I’m the weird one.
Huh,
Patrick
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