Open Letter to My Friend Who I Will Not Name

Unnamed Friend,

There is no easy way to say this, but I told the Vegas story again. Yes, that one and I did not leave out any detail, including your discovery of dried blood the next morning. I'm sure you remember it better than me. I apologize for telling it, but I had been drinking with friends and our conversation, miraculously enough, turned to strippers. I only have so many quality stripper stories, and your unfortunate encounter with "Titty Goldstein," as we call her, is the best. I also told of how I took that diet pill to stay up all night and got my nipple twisted by that middle-aged "dancer" while my heart was racing, and of the woman who resembled mashed potatoes poured into an onion sack that we saw the night Todd puked White Castle hamburgers in my car, so I shared my embarrassments as well; however, it cannot make up for my telling the story again to a group of people who are now eager to meet you, like all others who heard your sordid tale.

So, when you going to come up to Minnesota and watch some Minnesota State Mavericks hockey?

Your Friend,
Bryan