To Jon Clinkenbeard

My dearest Jon,

I'm writing this to tell you how much I love you. As I sit here in this 4-star restaurant, I wish you were with me. You'd enjoy the food. The chef is amazing, and I know how particular you are about cuisine. That's one of the things I love about you; your taste in all things delectable. You'll have to excuse my flowing language and verbose vocabulary. I've had quite a bit to drink, and I now fancy myself an eloquent writer. I can never hope to imitate you though. Your words speak to me. You make me laugh, you make me cringe, you make me think. I've never read anyone I've enjoyed as much as you. You have the most fantastic and lovely brain.
I know how bashful you become when complimented. Always a polite “thank you”, though. You're no doubt frowning while you read this, in that peculiar, cute way you do, when you love something so much it seems to frustrate you. I know exactly how you feel. When someone shows you such affection, you feel the equation is out of balance; that you can't possibly deserve such wonderful emotions put into actions and words. That you aren't doing enough to make this person feel the way they've made you feel.
You are doing more than enough. You do deserve them. You deserve everything I can give you and more. You've helped me become the person I am today, and for that, I will be eternally grateful. I love you, now and forever.
I must ask you again to please excuse my clumsy words. There is little I can do to convey how deeply my affections run. Scores of love letters, photographs, documents, and gifts to little to capture the essence of the devotion I have for you. For us.
Regardless of what happens, I fully intend to be with you on your deathbed. You are my soulmate. No one will ever know me as well as you do. No one will ever understand my heart and my mind the way you do. To your last breath, I will comfort you to the very best of my ability, and I will always strive to make you as happy as you've made me.

Looking forward to our eternity together, my truest love-
-Jon Clinkenbeard
XOXOXOXO

To My Six-Year-Old Son

How did you get in here?
I thought I locked that door.
No, Daddy does love you; he just needs special video game alone time.
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So he won’t go crazy.
You can stay in here if you promise to be quiet.
Hey look at me, buddy.
Promise?
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Do you promise to be quiet?
Ok then.
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That’s a laser gun. Like in cartoons.
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That man isn’t hurt, he’s an alien. Aliens don’t have feelings.
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That’s a force-field; Daddy has to blow that up to get into the base.
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No, they’re all just sleeping.
You promised me you’d be quiet.
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What?
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Ha-ha! You should ask Mommy that.
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Because mommies know the answer. Daddies don’t know where babies come from because mommies keep it a secret.
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Yes, Mommy keeps it a secret.
I think it involves a pterodactyl. You should ask her about that.
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It’s a dinosaur that flies. I gave you that big book of dinosaurs; don’t you ever look at that?
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Yes, you came from an egg, like the dinosaurs.
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No, breakfast eggs are different.
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No, those are chicken babies.
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Because people babies don’t get eaten; people babies grow up to ask their daddies all kinds of questions.
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Like the questions you’re asking me.
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The ones you’ve been asking me.
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Like that one, just there.
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Of course I love you.
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I love you and your mommy equally.
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I love you too.
Do you love me or mommy more?
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Really?
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Why?
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Well then I guess I love mommy more too.
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Well you made such a convincing case for her; I think I actually do love her a little more than you now.
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Because mommy and I can always make another baby if you don’t clean your room.
We can even give him your name and all your toys, so no one will know you’re gone.
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Then you’d better be good, so we don’t have to make a better baby to replace you.
That sounds like mommy’s home, why don’t you go ask her about pterodactyls and where babies come from?
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Hi honey, how was work-
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I just told him to ask you-
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Now look, don’t get upset, I was just kid-
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He’s fine! Why are you yelling?
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He’s not crying!
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Well he wasn’t crying a minute ago, he only cries when you’re around!
He knows you’ll give him whatever he wants.
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No. You’re being manipulated. He doesn’t care about what I said; he just wants you to baby him!
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Yeah, great, take him out for ice cream to cheer him up; I’m sure B.F. Skinner would have a little something to say about that.
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Fine then!
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I hope they both drop their stupid ice creams.
Jerks.
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A Letter to the Hunched Pines Retirement Community Administration

To Whom It May Concern,

I have taken about as much as I can stand here. I have tried my hardest to keep the peace and pretend that everything is fine, but let me assure you, everything is NOT fine. I am NOT enjoying my stay at Hunched Pines Retirement Community.
The food is horrible, the televisions are mostly black and white, and the soda machines cost 75 cents!!! Who ever heard of a Coca-Cola that cost 75 cents!? It’s highway robbery!
I’d also like to point attention to nurse Dove. She has been refusing my advances lately. If she’s not interested in me, she should keep her hands to herself, and dress like she has a husband, if indeed she has one, which I do not think that she does. And if she is interested in me, like I think she is, then she needs to stop refusing my caresses and kisses. I think you should address this with her. Or fire her to let her know you’re serious, and then rehire her.
I am tired of hearing people die also. It is not a pleasant sound, let me tell you. Apparently however, your faculty treats the sounds of the elderly passing away like it’s the best Benny Goodman concert they ever did hear.
I think something is strange about that Derek fellow. He always gives people the most horrible smile. Especially he can hear someone in the building who is dying. He looks like a snake. Also, I think he’s after nurse Dove, who has the hots for me, if I’m not mistaken. So I also hate him because of that. Also, he’s a snake.
My most important point is about sex. I know how much you hate hearing your elders talk about sex, but believe me; it’s as natural as a flower that’s nearly withered away. How am I ever going to convince nurse Dove to go steady with me, if we’re always forced to keep our doors open? If we don’t get intimate soon, I’m afraid she might lose interest. I might lose interest too. Well, probably not. She’s lovely and reminds me of my dead wife Helen. I’ve told her this on several occasions before sliding my hand over her bosom or thigh, but usually she slaps it. You need to have a word with her about that.
And another thing, I can’t believe how much a Coca-Cola costs! 75 cents per bottle?? Who ever heard of such a thing?! And also, you need to be SURE to get the Coca-Cola bottles. I think some of those bottles might be cans! You’re probably getting the raw end of the stick from your soda guy. Get that fixed, and also don’t forget to talk to nurse Dove.

-Sincerely,
Elmer Winkle