Dear Vlad, Billy, and Scott,
I hope you all know how much I care about each of you, in your own special ways. We’ve had a good time of it lately, what with the whiskey and the gin and the butterflies and the having to learn Russian and the hey-hey.
There’s only one problem in our grad-student/dead-novelist fake relationship(s)–you’re all, well, dead. I think the time has come for me to have a living novelist for a fake boyfriend. Someone whom I could potentially meet in real life, or maybe I could just stalk him in real life. That would be pleasant, too. Someone who feasibly could, at some nebulous point in the future, buy me open-faced sandwiches at a charming sidewalk cafe somewhere like, I don’t know, let’s say, Copenhagen. You three, being dead (while quite clever and charming!), make for impossibly smelly travel companions.
Here is what I propose: I think we should see other people–just to try it out. Well, what I mean is, I will be seeing other people. You guys will just be, you know, lying there. Like you always do. Meanwhile, devastatingly handsome-and-talented Danish novelist Peter H?eg and I will be doing nasty, nasty things. In my mind.
I hope you can understand. Of course I’ll still linger longingly over your books, it’s just that I will no longer be pretending to date you.
Wondering what kind of shoes are best for stalking novelists,
Vague
Wondering what kind of shoes are best for stalking novelists…
clowan shoes.
Vague, I hate to break the news to you, but Billy (at least) has been dating on the side as well. Yes, me. We’ve tried to spare your feelings thus far by being discreet, but if you’re stepping out, I guess we don’t have to hide anymore. In all fairness, considering your further progress on your dissertation, Billy’s first allegiance is to you, but lately, well, we’ve been spending more and more time together on the Bundren farm outside of Jefferson. Hope you won’t be too mad at me so that we can form a united front against the dreadful duck-billed woman. She’s really getting on my nerves.
However, on to more pressing matters. Peter–yum. I’ve found the best shoes for stalking are . . . none. Always trust the barefeet to be the quietest. However, if you insist on some kind of sole between your foot and the ground, for god sakes, go for the Birkenstocks!
c.
Fake boyfriends rule, yo!! Also, your picture of open-faces sandwiches makes me long for Finland.
HA HA HA: HAHAHA!!! Clowan shoes are indeed the best for stalking novelists. In my experience, in fact, they are best for stalking anyone!
May I suggest a British novelist? I’ve heard that Will Self will put out for the price of a thesaurus. But more importantly, what’s all this open-faced sandwich business? That’s like saying one-wheeled bicycle, or only twin. I suspect an Atkins-led conspiracy.
Clowan shoes, indeed! Apparently they are very frightening and dangerous (what with the oversized toes and all).
Clarabella: I had my suspicions about you and Billy, but it’s OK. He is a busy guy. I have been pimping him out to my students all term, so to speak.
Hungbunny: SuomiChris has it right about the open-faced sandwiches. They are great, and they have been around since long before that evil torture-artist Atkins got his greasy paws on a bunless hamburger. It’s also nice because you don’t feel so silly eating your sandwich with a fork, which I often like to do.