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The first letter 0

Dear Bradshaw,

            Well, old buddy, old pal, old chum, looks like the long arm of the law has finally caught up with you. I know you say you’re innocent and I believe you whole-heartedly but don’t forget about all the things you’ve done and not been charged for. Like the time you raided my refrigerator and ate everything but that egg.

            Good luck, brother, my thoughts (and words) will be with you. I know it’s going to be a long time but I promise to write loyally. I’m in for the whole hog. Meanwhile, try not to be bitter about it. Bad things can be good things in disguise and, besides, negativity is a black hole = it sucks you in and then stretches you into spaghetti. You don’t want to be a piece of pasta, do you?

            During the more difficult days, project yourself into the deepest recesses of your imagination. Walk on the moon, swim in tropical lagoons, climb Mount Everest.

            I admire you, Shaw, I do. Think about all the time you’re going to have to read, write and file your nails. Gosh, do they let you use files in there? I imagine not. Of course, if they don’t let you file your nails and your nails get long enough then I guess they too could serve as lethal weapons. It’s a paradox, like the fact I’m hairy but not on my head.

            Well, that’s it for now, Shaw. I just wanted to drop a line and let you know I’m here and will be sending you letters there. There. Ho hum. Good luck, brother, and let me know if you need anything.

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