Ronald Rabbit Is a Dirty Old Man

17

Larry or Pancho or whoever you are today,

You’ll have to forgive me for being a little drunk as I write this. But if I weren’t a little drunk, maybe more than a little, I couldn’t write to you at all.

You bastard, you rotten bastard.

All you want to do is ruin things for Steve and me. That’s fairly obvious. Just because we are two good people with a chance for happiness you have to be a little fox and spoil the vineyard. It makes me wonder why I ever thought I loved you in the first place. How could anybody possibly love a man like you? That is what I ask myself. Over and over I ask myself how could anyone ever love a man like you because you are no man at all, Larry, no man at all, you have no soul, and if someone cut you open there would be no heart in your body and that is how I feel about you, I swear it is.

Since your only goal in life is to make people miserable I am going to tell you that you are succeeding. Not that Steve and I are miserable because we love each other too deeply ever to be miserable, but we are getting there, thanks to you.

You are like a snake with an apple except you are not good enough to be a snake, you are more like a worm, a worm in an apple and even the apple is rotten and so are you, Larry, you rotten bastard.

Because of you we find ourselves asking ourselves silent questions when we already know the answers, but you make it impossible for us to relax and enjoy our happiness because you plant little doubts in our minds and the doubts feed and fester like lilies that smell worse than weeds.

I wish I were not drunk so that I could tell you just how much I hate you. And no matter what you do that you will not succeed.

I want you to know that, Larry.

If you have the slightest speck of human decency left within you, you will stop writing to us.