Kari Wuhrer

Dear Kari,

I felt compelled to write in and offer my sincerest congratulations on the good looks. This, however, is truly a sad, sad, day. For you see Kari, I am writing you to say that I will never be writing you again. I know that this is our first official communiqué, but it is also our last. Shhhhhh! Let me finish. I understand that the destruction of a bond as strong, as pithy and as tight as ours surely would be devastating for you as well as for me, but I must do it. You see our bond has driven the wedge of insurrection between me and Sven, my other personality. Sven is a tall blonde cable car driver with nationalistic tendencies and a flair for crochet. Despite his stunning good looks, his rudimentary language skills (both Swedish and Portuguese) usually hinder his progress with the ladies. He can play piano with his toes but hates the look of his feet. His ears are large and his forehead is even larger. Sven has seven fingers, three elbows and only one knee, which bends the wrong way. Despite his calm demeanor, Sven loses his temper every time the temperature reaches 73 degrees: Kelvin that is. He has given up on both Fahrenheit and Celsius because they are, in his words, "Symptomatic of a selfish culture driven to chase the almighty buck due the formalism of the government systems." When Sven was a child he was beaten with his own hand and told repeatedly not to blink. When Sven turned 10 his parents fooled him into thinking he was twenty-one. He grew a goatee, developed a drinking habit and got an apartment in the mean streets of Swedenville, where he worked odd jobs to pay his bills. When Sven was twenty-five, he reached puberty and with this, he had his first sexual encounter. His partner, a seven hundred pound Mongolian woman named Wilma, toyed with his emotions and left him a tattered shell of a man. When Sven turned thirty-eight, twenty-seven in actuality, he finally took a step in the right direction, he admitted he had a problem and got help. Better living through chemistry is now his motto. The proper mix of Prozac and Melon Liqueur keeps his ions in proper balance. Sven lives a lonely existence, it's just him and his pet rabbit named Forest Whitaker. Sven is to charm what toothpaste is to Europeans, non-existent. I think he fears our healthy relationship. Kari, he's never been so jealous before. When I asked him if he was upset by my new relationship with you, he said, "Da." The clincher was when I told him that I would call it off immediately and he replied, "Da. Gut." I feel horrible for letting you down.

I would just like to let you know that I am normal. Well, as normal as a guy with two personalities can be. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices, unfortunately you are caught in the wake of this sacrifice. All that’s left is for me to say goodbye and let you know I think you did an excellent job on the good looks.

Remorsefully yours,


Orpheous Roy

http://www.kariwuhrer.net/