Front
Back (apologies for my handwriting!)
The text of the postcard is
Dear Ellen,
Recently I have come to two realizations: 1, I am a romantic; 2, society needs to lower its expectations for what makes a romantic.
Sincerely,
DumbFunnery.com
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He sat down and stared at the behemoth in front of him. This … was to be his lunch. He already knew he would be eating until he felt awful but he picked up his fork and dug in anyway.
This was his favorite and least favorite (during astute post-meal analysis) restaurant in the world.
The amount of dollars spent here would be upsetting, shocking, pain-inducing and gut wrenching … Unless compared to the amount of calories consumed here. And then the dollars would be a mere drop in the bucket.
Before he knew it his plate was half empty, his appetite was gone, and yet the fork continued to move.
Slice, slice, bite. Slice, slice, bite. The rhythmic motions perfected like an Olympic level athlete’s perfect form.
He sat back, finally, stomach so full it almost hurt to exhale. Taking deep breaths because the effort had exhausted him physically and somehow, against all logic, emotionally.
The plate was conquered. The dish vanquished. Appetite demolished. Sense of self-hatred sky rocketing. The belly was the new ruler of the land and, oh, she was not pleased.
He got up, asked to see the chef, the manager, and his waitress. He took a large sip of his drink and proceeded to spit it out, as though his mouth was a whale’s blowhole, onto each of the three people integral in this all too large consumption fest.
Finally, he thought, I can actually stick to my diet now.
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The bank job had gone all wrong. There wasn’t even one moment after it started where things were going right. Tommy had tripped while moving into his position and his gun fired.
All hell broke loose after that.
With some quick thinking and surprisingly intelligent gut instincts from the crew, we still managed to get the money … But the cops were on to us from the start.
Our driver was good, but not that good.
As the police were closing in on us I had a flash of brilliance.
“Guys – when the cops finally get to us here’s what you do.
“Tommy, Stick out your tongue and make moose antlers with your fingers.
“Shoes, Ask a cop if you can pull his finger.
“Donnie, Yell out ‘stranger danger – mommy said to never talk to strangers!!’ when a cop starts yelling at you.
“And I will -”
One of the fellows cut me off. Not everyone on the crew is as smooth an operator as I am. They wanted to know why we should act like a bunch of kids.
“Guys,” I said this almost laughing, our jail time would be nothing, couldn’t they see?, “I’ve heard about cases where someone gets less time because they’re juvenile.”
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DumbFunnery