I have some news of the most tragic sort. On my way to the post office to mail you a few of my finer sketches, I was ASSAULTED from behind by some wretch and robbed of my most recent masterpiece. THIS IS ALL QUITE TERRIBLE! Unfortunately, I did not get a view of this villain because I was struck on the back of the head with what was apparently a slab of Formica and blacked out. I can only assume it was a lackey of my long-time rival Gaston Clutterbuck, who has been looking for an opportunity to out-do me ever since I took the tile scene by storm with my High-Five masterpieces. Gaston, that BASTARD! Just when I was about to release “Two Businessmen High-Five While Bruce Lee Flying Kicks Out of the Explosion!”
If and when he releases his version of “Two Businessmen High-Five While Bruce Lee Flying Kicks Out of the Explosion,” I’ll be ruined. He’ll be the new and happening tile artist on the scene and I’ll be some old hack riding on the coattails of the new star. Mack, I’m positive that this is no exaggeration when I tell you that MY LIFE IS RUINED! What am I going to do? How am I going to provide for my family?!
I suppose I’ll do my due diligence and pretend my world is not spiraling into a enormous vortex of chaos by congratulating you on not drinking till you black out anymore. I’m sure if Mom and Dad heard that you weren’t destroying your life via the deep, dark road of alcohol abuse, they’d be so proud. I’ll let them know if you want.
So Mack, it is with much chagrin that I must, at this point, not permit you to be married. As interesting as this female you’re now seeing sounds (I mean, she is a fellow artist), until my life is sorted out I can not allow you to have your life sorted out.
Please Mack, if there is anything you can do to help me return to my position as tile artist extraordinaire, I promise I will be your best man and will completely forgive you for all your previous wrong-doings. Help me Mac, you’re my only hope.