When people are not yelling at me because of something Toby or I did, they usually ask me about my letters. They ask where the ideas come from.
Sometimes the inspiration swarms me like locusts. Other times it is something less profound. Such is the case with this letter.
I lost my tube of hemorrhoidal anti-itch cream and I needed to get it back. I could not call on the telephone because 1) I do not own a telephone and 2) my neighbor Mr. Biggs told me that all payphones were confiscated by the government because they were only used by “drug dealers and perverts.”
With no other choice, I wrote a letter.
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