My Dearest Mr. Daquano,
Thank you for including a photograph of Mr. Marley. It helped convey your meaning, mightily. Knowing your proclivities, but one image came to mind, and it was not the dreadlocked bard of the reggae genre.
It was Bob Marley, of the sorry dick joke. The underrated comedian who shares the same name. I guess my whiteness is showing.
Today, Captain Crank and I found ourselves locked out of Forward Operating Base Frat House. All of the entryways were barricaded, and likely booby-trapped. We could hear the voice of one Lance Corporal Houston within..
Were it intern season, I would have been left with only one thought to surmise — that the young Lance was sharing his Kielbasa recipe with an impressionable co-ed (at a proper social distance, of course). Alas, since this scourge has descended upon us, no intern has darkened the doorstep of the entire News Division, much less, Frat House.
That was when it came to me. Also missing from our morning muster, was Private Slappy. It became abundantly clear, that, in this time of scant barbers, and do-it-oneself snippery, the well-coiffed Lance was sharing hair styling tips with the vacant-eyed Private.
When the Captain and I finally broke through the barricades, the sweet scent of lavender, leather, and bourbon permeated Frat House. (Sadly there was neither cigars nor Barry White.) Private Slappy looked none the better for the lesson.
Warmest personal regards,
Sgt. T. Polisher
1st News Division