Letter 18

Like the clumsy fool I am, I was walking down my staircase last night and I slipped about half way. Somehow I retained my balance as I skied down six or seven stairs on my heals. When I hit the bottom stair I finally fell backward and slammed my wrist into the floor. It would have been fun, were it not for the abrupt ending.

So now my wrist hurts. I probably have carpel tunnel. I know carpel tunnel doesn't come from one time trauma, but this pain has been building for years. Last night's ride down Mt. Staircase only made it worse.

Anyway, my portfolio is done and naturally I'm second guessing the format. I have it arranged in a book situation and I'm worried that it will not get read because it will look like overkill. I'm going to take it home tonight and arrange it how I have it arranged at my home. I'm going to section off the different stories and poems and various writings in order of similarity. It should make the whole thing more understandable, and navigable.

You may think I'm stalling, but really I'm just stalling.

LETTER 18:

Dear [adult swim],

The trip home from North Carolina was not so bad. Well, it wasn't Armageddon.

We got started nice and early because I'm a guy and that's what we do. Plus the bed we had to sleep on felt like poster board wrapped around three or four ancient pillows and a sack of rocks. So since we weren't sleeping anyway we hit the road before dawn.

I was so glad to see I-85 until I saw the moon. It was full. I did not expect the moon to be full until Monday night. When you hunt werewolves you must keep track of such things.

I imagine the guy in the SUV in front of us figured that it was dark, and that no one would notice what he was doing. But we noticed. The passenger side window of his Lexus rolled down and out popped a full moon; bright, shiny, and hairy. At first we thought it was a prank and we laughed. Then we realized this was a working interview. I had to pull off to the side of the road.

Now I know that I live in the heart of the South. and I know that not everybody has the manners God gave the common house cat. And I probably would have been less surprised had this assault on common decency come from a beat up old Chevy with ten hounds in the bed. But a Lexus?

signed

Ps. Maybe I'm being elitist, but surely there is a rule that says you cannot drop the deuce out the window of a moving Lexus. I'm still a little shaken.


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