By:  Herb McPherson

Mailman's Log #26

Friends, I finally know the joy that comes with being a star.  For years I chased after stardom, hoping that it would bite me in the ass like so many rodents and insects have done before.  Finally, I have found my ticket to the most coveted professtion in the world:  the actor.

I purchased this ticket to fame by joining a little acting troupe that practiced down the street from my home.  Although I was the only person out of high school in the crowd, I felt at one with the group.  I think my age and girth command respect among this group of brilliant young artists.  That is why they have given me the name "Pee-Wee," which I bear as if it were a badge of honor.

After seeing that my audition was clearly the best, the director decided to make me play a butler.  We practiced for weeks.  I felt it was my duty to keep the young'uns pumped about the show.  They playfully called me a "fag" and a "pedophile," which seemed to make us seem more like a team.  They didn't appear to enjoy the fact that I did everything possible to please the director, although using cattle prods to quiet down my cast members did get the job done.  While many received injuries, we all knew that it was in the best interest of the show.  Mild shocks with a cattle prod only brought us closer together.

Then, after so many rehearsals and prods, we were ready to display the fruits of our labor.  The kids were nervous, so I decided to give them a pep talk before the show.   They jokingly threw water bottles at me and told me to shut up.  How I shall miss our amusing banter!  We went onstage and dazzled the audience with our dance steps, good timing, and proper hygiene.  I really think I wowed the crowd with my skill at carrying trays and pouring lemonade (which I playfully mixed with Ex-Lax). 

After several trips to the bathroom, the troupe felt it would be for the best if I didn't join them at the cast party.  I understand their emotions completely.  I, too, once lost a dear friend to the lights of showbiz.  I know they believe I will forget about them, but that simply is not true.  I swore they would receive a wonderful postcard from their beloved "Pee-Wee."

God, how I shall miss their companionship.