By:  Herb McPherson

Mailman's Log #32826

High school reunions have a habit of making me want to urinate on several pictures of Jimmy Carter.  There's something about being surrounded by hundreds of poor, hapless souls that make me incredibly depressed.  Unforunately, I owe it to these people.  My presence is strongly needed to bring some light to their dull, uneventful lives.

Though one would assume that my wacky adventures would make these wretched creatures more depressed, it appears that my antics bring copious amounts of joy to their sad lives.   For instance, my 20-year reunion was a smashing success.  I rented the finest powder blue suit available and went to the hair salon to give my trusty mullet a touch-up.

Upon arriving at the reunion, I found many of my former high school colleagues.  Poor Rick Chomsky was the vice president of some company now.  Though it sounds swell, I don't want to be bogged down by my work.  I wouldn't accept that job for a second, even if I had the skills and intelligence necessary.  Rick greeted me by playfully turning his back on me and ignoring me the whole night.  He even ignored my shouted accusations of Chomsky incest.  The only greeting he sent my way was a comment he made about my suit to a friend of his.  From what I heard, "hideous" and "obesity" peppered the conversation.  Oh Rick, you are such a kidder.

Kimmi Grogan was an old flame of mine.  She was head cheerleader, and was the envy of every girl in school.  All the ladies wanted a piece of the mullet, but it only belonged to Kimmi.  She often called it "a disgusting mass of cranial pubic hair," but I know she was just being coy.  Ah, Kimmi.  How young and in love we were!  I saw her across the crowded room and made my way towards her.   She looked stunning in her sweatsuit and cigarette.  Her permed hair caught the dimmed light in such a way that it made me breathless.  Her husband's scalp had a shine to it that made me jealous.  Suddenly, I was intensely envious of this bald chap.  How dare he grace the loins of the woman I love!  Springing into action, I lept stealthily at the man's abdomen.

Screaming the name of the female I pine for, the man was no match for me.  It was evident that Kimmi would soon be mine.  After tearing the man to sheads, I carried my Kimmi off to safety.  Just after I lifted my love off the ground, her Lee press-on nails went flying for my vulernable eyes.  As I lay on the ground sobbing, I could hear Kimmi's charming plastic bracelets go tinkling away from me. 

Ah, Kimmi and I could never be.  I'm assuming her husband recently knocked her up and Kimmi felt obligated to stay with him.  After all, that's the only logical answer.