A Short Letter About Leaky Toilets

Note- The writer of what appears below is unknown to me. But then again, I am unknown to many of you. So,...

Dear Pen Pal,

The oddest thing happened to me just the other week (odd even for your dearest weary lost soul). I had run away from the orphanage for the billionth time, as usual those other orphans were a little too handsy with me. I soon found myself at a Quickie Mart called Sims, on a strange road near old folks homes, dilapidated apartment complexes, and bad Chinese take-out joints. Anyway, I bought a couple of 40s, a tin of potted meat, and a pack of Marlboro Reds (the Indian looking clerk running the counter at the time, who went by the name of Patel I think, didn't seem to mind that I was a mere 13 year old runaway). I walked out of the Sims and across the street to a place that bills itself as one where folks can discover many lifestyles. While I was wandering around the property I observed a number of black kids running around unattended, freaks walking sad looking dogs, brothers tinkering under the hoods of their barely running autos, and a Mexican couple arguing about the dramatic rise in the price of bologna at the Food Slug. After noticing these things, I came across a situation stranger yet. I espied 2 guys get out of a golf cart in front of one of the run-down buildings. And boy did they seem to be having a snit brewing between them! The first guy was old, wearing a fake Indiana Jones type hat, sported a bushy mustache, and had a certain rank stench that can only be attained through careful avoidance of showering. The other guy was younger, maybe 40. He was scrawny, wore ill-fitting glasses, and carried an undignified redneck air about his personage. When I walked up toward them they were arguing about the best way to fix a leaky toilet. I said to them, "What's up, Jack?" The older one explained to me that his idea of the best way to handle this leaky toilet problem was to put a note on the door of the residence in question conveying that maintenance will get to dealing with the problem after the weekend. After which weekend exactly was unclear to me. The skinnier of the two objected to this plan and instead wanted to take out and replace not only the leaky toilet in question, but all the toilets on the entire property. "Jus' as' a percawshun," as he so aptly put it. My advice was to loan the occupants a wrench. I was brokering a peace between these 2 coarse workmen. After a number of minutes of stammering like Mel Tillis by the scrawny guy and some fiddling with his yellowish dentures by the older guy (he made this constant gnashing sound with his lower set, only I seemed to take any notice to it), it was all settled - they left a wrench at the doorstep with a note that read: FER YER LEKEY CUMODE. That being over, the older guy inquired of me, "What the hell are you doing here kid?" I replied, "Nothing much, looking for a place to drink my malt liquor and contemplate the meaning of Naughty By Nature Lyrics, I guess." He said, "Why don't ya get yourself into the office for a cookie." I asked, "Chocolate chip?" "Sure, just be sure to avoid the old iron broad in there, she'll run you off just for kicks." "What?" "Just ask for Nancy when you go in there. She'll get you a chocolate chip." I got super excited at the mention of that name. I asked, rather hurriedly, "Is it the same Nancy who used to tutor me in the fine art of scoring at that measuring company across town? The orphanage apprenticed me for a spell there, and if it's the same Nancy she is mind-numbingly hot." The denture grinding geezer said, " Yea, so? I think it is. What of it kid?" I replied, "Thanks. I gotta run." And I started walking away from this odd couple. The old-timer yelled one last thing at me "Wait a sec. Aren't you going up to that office?" I replied to him this way, "I better not old timer. Because if I lay eyes on her, I'll start bawling uncontrollably." Then I lit out toward the park adjacent to this property, sat on a bench there, threw back my 40s, chain smoked for an hour, and got about as depressed as I've ever been.

Your Buddy,

_____