02/05/09

Dear Bernie,

Mom called today and said you’ve been feeling better, but she also said you threw up a few days earlier. It must be really disappointing when you throw up because you seem to like food a lot. I bet if no one cleaned up your vomit you’d try to re-eat it. Sometimes I like to think you’re civilized, but then I remember you ate cat shit when you were younger. Sorry, that was unfair. I know, I already mentioned that last week in the previous letter. You’re probably tired of hearing about it. It’s okay. I’ll stop bringing it up, but you should know everyone has embarrassing moments and it’s good to laugh at them when you get older. For example, I once asked out this girl named ‘Heidi’ in sixth grade and she said, “I’ll write you a note,” but she never did and it kind of stopped me from ever asking out another girl until I was a junior in high school because I guess I was subconsciously waiting for her note. What made things worse was I didn’t ask out this really pretty girl named ‘Amanda’ my freshmen year of high school even though she told this kid name Matt that she wanted me to ask her out and Matt told me, but all I could do was say, “Oh cool,” and continue getting ready for gym class, and Matt went and told Amanda that I said she was weird and she stopped liking me and to be honest ‘Heidi’ was kind of cruel for never giving me the note she promised, but it worked out okay for her. She was valedictorian which maybe explains things. Ha ha? Actually it doesn’t explain anything. I’m pissed off and kind of want to call her right now and tell her, but I don’t have her number which is probably better, but still it’s not really the note I’m upset about. It’s that she killed my goldfish. Well, technically, she didn’t have anything to do with my goldfish dying. His name was Barney. I got him when I was two. I didn’t know ‘Heidi’ until I was twelve. Barney lived in a fishbowl. He was your first brother. You never got a chance to meet him. He died a long time before you were born. You were negative ten years old or something. I don’t remember much about Barney. He liked water a lot more than you. I don’t think he was afraid of puddles like you are and he wouldn’t have gotten seizures like you did that time you fell in our aunt’s pool and I had to jump in and get you. Anyway, all I really remember about Barney is that he died and we flushed him down the toilet. Don’t worry. If you die we’re not going to flush you down the toilet. I’m not sure what we’re going to do. Mom said she wants to stuff you and put wheels on your feet and keep you in the living room, but that seems insane.

-Mark