Dear Ser Bryant Cumberfell,
Twenty-two. I have completed twenty-one letters over the past several nights, and this will be the twenty-second. At the advice of the good doctor who's left me bedridden and stiff, I have decided to pen letters to settle my debts, lest my conscience be weighed down and prevent my flight to heaven!
Bryant, I can think of no other friendship that lasted quite as long or ended quite as poorly as ours. When we met in grade school, I felt the utmost amazement at finding another soul so carefully intent on perfecting his Windsor knot (did you ever get the hang of that?), although I still insist that the half-Windsor would be more flattering, given the girth of your neck and size of your head (it's surprising how poorly you performed at academics, given all the room your brain had).
We'd a friendship unlike any known to man - you were content to keep out of the limelight, insisting that I court the ladies and drink brandy with the men. My favourite moments were when you'd spill wine on yourself (you hardly could remember left from right, you clumsy dog) and sit quietly as the table snickered and scoffed, so many inside jokes were created at your inspiration. You were always such a good sport, ensuring nothing short of the best for me. I think it gave you a great senes of pride to do so - I often saw you wipe tears of what I assume were joy and happiness from your face (which gave your enormous head an awful rose hue - did you ever purchase that hat I told you of or did you lack the funds even 'til the end?).
And perhaps what happened with Milifred Boyles was the closest thing I have to regret. Ser Bryant, I will confess that 'twas not her beauty nor disposition that attracted me to her (in fact, from behind I would mistake her for you except that she was twice as clumsy!) but when she served that Yorkshire pudding - I couldn't believe it. It was like heaven inside my mouth - even now I salivate at the very thought of it! And it drove me crazy, to know that she used her exquisite culinary skills to make Yorkshire Pudding and Shepherds' Pie and Cumberland sausage for a slob like you - a man who would put more of it in his lap than his mouth. I was driven nearly insane with jealousy and hunger.
I stayed up nights dreaming of her bangers and mash, craving her bubbles and sqeak. And of you, who hardly noticed the food on the table, you who was too busy "discussing interests" and "making plans" to finish your plate - I could never understand how you could be so rude!
Milifred was stubborn at first, refusing my offers and rejecting my efforts to woo her. Her loyalty to you was both strong and stupid - why should a woman with her talents waste them on a man who did not appreciate them? So one day I told her of you and MaryAnne. I said that you had been courting another behind her back and that you could not stand the sight of her food, let alone stomach it. She went to the grocer's that morning as I instructed her to do and she saw you and MaryAnne picking apples together, your hand on her shoulder. And when I saw her next, her face was disfigured and rosied from crying (I suggested a hat for her, as well). Daft woman never found out that MaryAnne was your sister.
Looking back, I cannot believe I was so stupid. My stomach ruled my head and you and I haven't spoken since. I can still see your pink, pouty face like a balloon tied too tight with that silly full-Windsor knot and I miss it. It has taken me a long time, but I finally realize my mistake:
I should have just asked her for the recipes.
Bryant, I should have just ASKED HER FOR THE RECIPES! For days Milifred cried and cried and was so distraught, that I graciously allowed her an escape from her culinary duties for a few hours, but then she'd cry when she'd cook and the food was ruined! Absolutely ruined. Salty and full of bitter morose. I promptly asked her to leave. Can you imagine? The audacity.
Was this an oversight on my part, Bryant? Yes, it was. But there it is, the closest moment to regret I've found.
And unfortunately, I was never able to find a suitable replacement, were you?
If so, please include their contact information in a return correspondence.
Henry Adam Wood
I recently saw a similar, but heavily discounted hat at the haberdashery on Golden Way. Perhaps you can scrape together the funds for purchase. Priorities, Bryant, priorities.
Created: Feb 24, 2014tootwofoursquare Document Media