Dear woman below me,
I apologize for referring to you as the “woman below me” but the two times that you knocked on my door to complain about the noise you never properly introduced yourself.
I’ll get to the point. Last Saturday at around 4 o’clock in the afternoon you made your second emergency visit to ask if the “Radiohead” CD set on volume 3 could be turned down because you had a cold and were trying to sleep. The first time you knocked on my door was shortly after I moved in at 7 o’clock in the P.M. on a weeknight. You told me you were a teacher and had to get up in the morning and could I kindly stop unpacking because the sound of shuffling boxes was keeping you up. I don’t know why you felt it was necessary to tell me your occupation was that of an educator, but I do think you’ve missed your true calling. With your acute sense of hearing and leadership abilities you could have been in charge of quality control down at the local dog whistle factory or an incredible piano tuner. I think your constant need for a little peace and quiet or a bad case of narcolepsy gets in the way of your dreams.
I have a few suggestions that may make your life a little easier. Since you are a sensitive soul in need of your own space I think you need to reassess your current living situation. At this point in your life you are trying to make ends meet on a teachers salary by renting one of the bottom units of a loud Apartment complex in a large city. I think you should quit your day job and play the lottery. When you win (I’m rooting for you!) buy yourself a stretch of land in Arizona, build an underground, lead reinforced bomb shelter and sleep in one of those oxygen chambers that Michael Jackson used to block out the outside world. Good luck!
Yours quietly, The man in Apt. H
P.S. Feel free to grade my letter and make the necessary corrections. I think you’ll find it’s full of sarcasm and run on sentences.
Christine,
I am trying in vain to get our divorce finalized. Time and time again you’ve told me that since you are a lawyer, you would do the paperwork-and so I wait. You have asked me to sign credit repair documents to explain my responsibility on bills that were in your name- and still I wait. I’ve sent you my share of the filing fee as per your request and guess what? – I’m still waiting. What should have been a no brainer, no contest divorce has turned in to a no way, no win situation. I can’t imagine that you gain anything by staying married to me and since we are both in long term relationships with other people, it makes no sense.
During the course of writing and mailing this letter I realize that I list your phone number and address under the name Wolverine. It’ s a little dishonest, but I do that to avoid any problems with my current girlfriend: a very beautiful, albeit jealous 18-year-old Japanese girl named Sake Mykocky (I met her while getting my ass waxed at a full service salon called “Happy Beginnings”). With no malice or ill intent I picked the name Wolverine and never thought about the irony until I was watching The Animal Channel one night. These nasty sharp-toothed creatures were used as a form of torture during the Civil war. The soldiers would put the poor POW in a big burlap bag, throw the Wolverine in, Tie the bag tight and the furry heathen would claw the poor bastard to death in mere seconds. Well at least it was quick and easy as opposed to long and drawn out.
Speaking of long and drawn out, this August 30th will be our 9-year wedding anniversary. Can you believe we’ve been together that long? – And they said it wouldn’t last. We should write a book! Let’s call it “Staying married while living with other people for over five years and avoiding the responsibility and pain of getting divorced ”. I haven’t a clue what to get you this year, but I do know what I’m getting- a big basket of meaningless oral agreements, notarized chicanery, cute little excuses and to top it off a card that reads, “Go f*ck yourself Pat Godwin”.
Enclosed are copies of the current paper trail and a lock of my thinning hair for your voodoo experiments.
Sincerely someone else’s
J. Patrick Godwin
Dear mygodwins.com,
Thank you for listing me in your Godwin family genealogy website as the 3rd most famous Godwin. I’m flattered to be in such illustrious company as King Harold Godwin, philosopher William Godwin and Frankenstein author Mary Shelley Godwin but I think you’re missing some very important members of my family. I come from some pretty impressive lineage. My father, J. Gerald Godwin was a theater professor and director at King’s College in Wilkes Barre, Pa., my grandmother Esther Godwin was a very popular vaudeville singer and my great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great great, grandmother dated Adam. Feel free to use her in your site if you wish. I don’t think any headshots exist because all of her belongings were ruined in the flood but there are some paintings.
Famously yours,
Pat Godwin
Margaret and Mark,
I accept your generous holiday invitation and look forward to seeing everyone. It just so happens that I’m performing in Scranton, PA that weekend and since Thanksgiving falls on a Thursday this year, that would be perfect. Yes, my birthday coming up is a big one and I do know how old I’m going to be.
I will be traveling with my nurse Kimberly and her assistant Avery. One empties the bag and the other pushes the chair. God has sent these angels to me and if you do engage them in conversation, keep it simple… they’re from Ohio. During the meal they will be instructed to stay in the foyer and remain quiet. I sleep sitting up so I can be put anywhere at night and the girls nap in shifts by my side.
Margaret, as you know I have special meal requirements and will need all my food to be pureed and served at no more than 84 degrees. This is due to esophageal scarring as a result of drinking rubbing alcohol in rehab. Please refrain from using vanilla extract, cooking sherry or liqueurs when preparing the meal for even if I were to ingest trace amounts of hooch accidentally, it could trigger a 5-day binge (oh, how I’ll miss your Jameson stuffing).
I’ll forward our flight plans so you can arrange for a handicapped equipped van to pick us up at the airport and transport us to your place.
See you soon (God willing),
Your loving brother, Pat
