We've only known each other for a couple of weeks, so please give this letter only as much weight as you think it deserves. If we're keeping a bravery scorecard, your brother is winning. Last Friday night he lost his front teeth in a bar fight and he's still holding his head high. Sure, he wrecked your car the first time he drove it, but after kicking him out of the house, now he's super-pissed, and it doesn't take much to contaminate his best intentions. For example, some of his friends are out egging houses, but they're just hangers-on. Like you've never rolled with a bad crowd, lol.
That reminds me. Love your foul, especially the kind with the fried egg on top. Sometimes before the sun goes up, I'll go out for a bowl. I like the way you smile at me when I build up my courage to stammer an order.
You won't let the kid behind the wheel for another 50 years, I get that. But I hope you don't disown him completely. A couple of years ago his nose was buried in the Ukrainian driver's manual, studying the Orange way of handling a vehicle. I hope for his sake he rededicates himself to it. We all could use a little peace in the neighborhood.
Those polka-dot kerchiefs you wear, what are they called again? Let's go for that felucca ride tonight. You smell like sweat and cigarettes, but you're hot.
Affectionately,
Sluggh
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