EDITOR’S NOTE: In and effort to entertain the newsroom, another photographer and I (who are now required to work in separate offices) have begun exchanging letters from the frontline of the Coronavirus Pandemic. I share them with you so that you may feel the love.
You never need to apologize for not writing back in a swift manner. I understand the time and assiduous care it takes to craft your artistic visions which our viewers delightfully relish on a nightly basis.
Yesterday I had to meet Nipsy No Hussle in the front lobby, as I awaited his impending arrival I smelled a malodorous stench wafting from upstairs. I assumed your musk had permeated the walls or maybe it was the fetid water in which the frat boys were bathing.
As I was bent over trying to regain some semblance of composure I could see a pair of Texas style boots ever so smoothly cascading down the porcelain steps. As I looked up further, my eyes fixed upon a perfectly quaffed mane bouncing ever so gently on a wrinkle-free forehead. I instantly knew it was Private Houston, or as the girls call him, Colonel Kielbasa.
His perfect tuft of hair is a pure gift from the creator of heaven and earth. Now I understand why you tired to throat the ripe banana. Who wouldn’t wanna show off to a genuine Tyler Texas hunk??!!
Congrats on the TP, you deserve Mr. Whipple himself to wipe your bottom and tug a nip for all the good you do for mankind.
Always on my mind,
Left Eye Daquano