5 March, 2015
Dear Jack,
These letters may be the basis of a new book in the Bible- The Epistles OF JM To the Pelagians.
Netanyahu has spoken, let the bombing begin.
Should we be more fearful of Nancy Pelosi or Hillary Clinton?
I am off to see Sutphin, the savager of my manly bagel.
When will he tire of examining the tip of my pecker?
yr friend
RPS
Dear Reader,
My learned pal received many of my missives pre UPLC, and he returned them thinking I could use them as he suggests above or for entertainment.
I give you my surly missive dated October 19, 2006 to RPS. I swear by every word of it.
Dear Bob,
Hope all is well there in Wonderful, Colorful, Wyoming. All is well in Tenacious Tennessee, a gentle rain is pattering at our roof as I type this
nonsensical message. I quit all caffeinated beverages about a month to six weeks ago and now I find it really hard to stay awake at anytime of day.
I drift off at the most inconvenient of times. Driving, fishing, talking on the phone. It doesn't matter.
The fellow who is digging my camp sight has found pottery and bone fragments and flint point fragments only so far. Duckhaven, a name I dubbed the farm
over in Gibson County because of its seemingly duck friendly atmosphere, until they come in, then, blam, blam, blamo! is picking up some rain as I type.
Ducks already using the pond.
I hiked far back into the bottom land where the big cypress trees live and I think I stumbled upon an authentic Bigfoot turd. It was steaming fresh, piled
up on a fallen log, next to a deer hunter's stand. It was large, about the size of my head, minus the hair, which is cropped short. It quite literally
stunk to high heaven as they say in these parts.
It had a strange iridescent green glow and I noticed that even the green-backed Bojo flies kept their distance.
Ever notice how not a fly in sight when you crap outside and within a few seconds the pile is swarmed by the omnipresent green-backed bojo? Them flies
has got a keen sense of smell. Of course they feets get a little bit dirty, but this is expected in their line of work.
You might wonder how I identified the stool as that of the bigfoot? Well the rest of the story is that I seen him drop that one. It was a terrible
sight!
He, sasquatch, squatted, grunted, moaned and strained until his eyes nearly popped out of his semian sockets. After what seemed to be a millennium, the
delivery of the scat was followed by a great sigh on his part followed by a loud bigfoot fart. A noise that I cannot adequately describe, having never heard
anything like it, ever. It was a cross between a french horn and the bag pipes both in A flat, hummed on a kazoo.
I was thoroughly horrified when I realized the bastard did not even attempt to wipe his ass when he finished, not so much as a leaf! He just stood up, stretched,
and sauntered off leaving me to contemplate that tremendous pile.
And that ain't all, Bob. The reason you never find bigfoot droppings in the wild is explained by the next strange event!
As I watched in bemusement, the turd began to smolder and as I studied it, it burst into flames and burned completely up with no residue, or residoo, if
you please. From start to finish, the burning took no more than 10 to 15 seconds.
This leads me to believe these creatures shit petroleum based products, and might be our answer to OPEC and this may lead to a new and unlimited
renewable energy source.
Do you think if I write a proposal, I might get government funding? And finally would you and David help with the research if I get a grant?
Must sleep.
Your friend
Jackson Maybolt
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