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Don’t hate me! Clement never told me about the note and I had no way of knowing about the affair on the bridge last autumn. You have to believe me, though I would certainly understand if you didn’t (Clement has so systematically undermined my credibility). The point is this: I love you. I’ve always loved you since the time when we were children and played punter’s whirligig in the field by the creek. You were a brave young boy and I was a shy little girl. But this is no schoolyard crush I have now. It is the soulful love of a full-grown woman, a woman whose love is as bountiful as her bountiful, bountiful bosom. A woman who for ten years has watched as the man she loved was confused, then deceived, then made foolish, then conned and at last, for these past several months, jacked off manually by Clement’s sinister hand. That is about to change (Oh, please let it change!), dearest Philippe. Don’t ask me why I didn’t just tell you about my love for you before. I tried to tell you, but you were to busy getting handjobs! Pig!
[Later] Sorry about that last bit. It was late and I hadn’t had my enema. Please write!
Comatosa San Turdita
PS. Tell Clement I’m going to kick her sluttish face shit-deep into her pedigreed ass next time I see it (her sluttish face).
Date Written: May 18, 2003
Author: Ewan Snow
Average Vote: 4.5