An Open Letter To Paco Fiandacoulos

Dear Paco Fiandacoulos,

Assuming that IS your real name. Look, I don’t know who you think you are. No, really. I don’t even know WHO you are. So any assumptions on my part about your thoughts and feelings on who you are would be totally baseless. I’ll do my best not to go there.

You could be a great guy. Then again, you might be a gutless rat bastard. Perhaps your mother loved goats, you pathetic bag of filth – wait, sorry. That’s not fair of me to say that. I got carried away and like I said, I don’t even know you!

Let’s be frank. – No, I don’t mean we should be Frank Kang. – What’s that? – Ha! Good one, Paco!- Yeah, the guy who works at the deli. No, I know who you’re talking about.

Sorry, I was just imagining how our conversation might go. Some witty banter, no doubt! Sorry, there I go again being assumptive. As I was saying, I’m writing to you because I was hoping by this point in the letter I would have thought of where this was going. Like a larger point or even just some more rambling. But, ah…yeah. That’s all I got.


J. Q. S.

PS: Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Paco, I’m talking about you, Paco.

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