Dear Pen Pal 2
Dear Penpal,
Hello and nice to meet you. You can call me Dude. That's what the kids used to call me, the ones on my ice cream route. I was an ice cream truck driver for many years, too many to count and frankly most of it is a blur. I have a bad memory. I think it is from years of working in an asbestos plant. They insisted the asbestos was safe and that it would not harm our health. However that is what we in Ireland call a load of malarkey. In other words, a story, just like this letter.
So yes I'm making everything up. I don't think that matters though since the point of this pen pal exchange is to get better at English. Our respective teachers have decided on this assignment and we must listen to them and trust them implicitly for they are wise in the ways of the world. Like the famous American moral barometer, Oprah Winfrey. She has a billion dollars (US).
I hope you enjoy your stay in Hawaii. This is a good place because there aren't any snakes here.
Very truly yours, &c.
posted by ds @ 1:36 PM
2 Comments:
New cars and Titanium balls are cool, but I can't afford either right now.
Danny, your blog is all cracked up when I open it up. The background is all crazy and things don't make sense. I had to "select all" to be able to see the text. Not sure what's up. Sounds like Malarkey. I think Oprah should change her name to Malarkey Winfrey.
I think Dude is making up the part about writing to his pen pal to learn english. I think he's really a tire iron laying on a cold wet street in Detroit hoping that someday soon a warm human will get a flat right by him and he will once again be needed in the world instead of being punished by the sun-god (Stephen) and moon-god (Slimey) everyday with hot rays scorching him then cool darts freezing him. His best friendddddddddddd"THE ANT" is really a piece of space shuttle debris (pronounced DA-BRIS) but he can't tell the difference.
He's gone straight edge.
"How do you do, I don't think we've met.
My name is Ian, and I'm from Minor Threat."
E you crack me up. I love harrassing your tuft. I mean turf. Rock on with the new wheels. Guess the Jeep finally gave up?
The blog looks good to me, chris riley, so I conclude it is your firewall or perhaps the fact that you spit on zoo animals when you go to the zoo. You spit out the window when you drive through the festival of lights, too, sicko. Spitting is acceptable on the ballfield and in the bedroom and that's it.
Guess whatski. I'm going to record a few songs to give to this cafe here so they can let me play during the first Friday downtown gallery walk. I don't know but maybe I can get these on the site one of these days.
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