[Background: This saga began with the fourth bullet point in this post. Chapter two is here. Now it continues…]
From: Peterson, Preston email@example.com
To: Norvell, Thad
Sent: Friday, August 26, 11:39 PM
Subject: dumbut of the month
Listen up butt sniffer. I was going to leeve you alone after you gave me that good trick about the plastic bag and all, but tehn I heard from someone down the street that all of a sudden everyone in the hole dam world is saying that Lance was smoking drugs to win all his races. As soon as I heard this I knew how it started because you are the only person I ever heard of who doesn’t like Lance. I don’t know if your girlfriend broak up with you because she has a crush on Lance or what, dude, but you need to give it up. He’s better than you an d no amount of lieing that you do is going to change that. Lie lie lie and call yourself a French news paper, but at the end of your life you will be a sad liar inhell and Lance will still be living strong in heaven (if he ever even dies, which he may not since he’s already beat cancer and is the best shaped athlete ever, unlike you and your fat self. You would probably die the first day you got cancer.) Besides, I can’t believe anyone believes your stupid story about the drugs. It doesn’t make any sense that he could race so fast while he was high, and everyone knows you can’t keep pee stored for six years. I stored some in a Mountain Dew bottle for seven months and then one day it spastaneusly exploded all over my closet. My closet still smells like the corner of my grandma’s living room where the cat lives and my mom still won’t go in there, even when she’s drunk. So you can take your scarcasm and jelousy and stick them in your rear and pull them out your ear weiner nose. If me and Austin ever see you on the street we are going to go gangsta on yo azz, just like it says in that Snoop song that we always listen to while we’re practicing to be Tour de France riders on the exercise bike in Austin’s garage. Austin might not look scary, but his Dad who would be a black belt if he hadn’t dropped out of Tiekwondo classes because they cheated him out of the third stripe on his green belt taught him how to do num chucks. Austin practices every day and he could beat you down before you ever even knew he was in the room if he saw you on the street. Also I am learning how to thrown ninja throwing stars, and even though I only have paper stars right now, I’m saving my allowance to buy some real ones from some real ninjas who have a w ebsite where they sell ninja weapons. So you better keep you and your sad Aggie self (Lance is a real LONGHORN by the way not a stupid Aggie) out of our way. And anyways, I’m calling the police and ESPN to tell them you were the pee pirate who mad eup the Lance story.
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From: Norvell, Thad
To: Peterson, Preston firstname.lastname@example.org
Sent: Tuesday, August 30, 10:03 AM
Subject: Re: dumbut of the month
It’s great to hear from you again. After you didn’t respond to my last email, I was afraid I had offended you in some way and we’d never talk again. This, of course, would have been devastating to me.
I can imagine that the news of the last week or so has been very unsettling for you and the millions like you who have made the yellow rubber ring your featured accessory for the last couple of years. I mean, what would it mean for the whole sloganeering enterprise and for the feel good foundation you’ve all built your strong way of living on if Lance was juicing (and not Jack LaLanne’s kind of juicing)?
Speaking of juice, I’ve also gone in a Mountain Dew bottle before, once while driving my car across West Texas, and several times when I was in a particular temporary living situation where it was not as simple as it should have been to go to the bathroom at night. I also once went in a Dr. Pepper bottle while driving down I-20 in Dallas in broad daylight. I consider this one of my top 5 all time feats behind the wheel. However, I don’t suggest you try this, especially on your bike. Though it might be a smidge less dangerous than peeing in a bottle on an interstate while driving 70 mph, the bike doesn’t afford you the same level of privacy that a car does.
Anyway, I always remembered to dispose of the bottles before there was an explosive mishap, and I’ll add your experience to my portfolio of pee bottle anecdotes. It is, without a doubt, instructive.
Preston, while I understand your frustration with the mounting suggestions that Lance might have had some help living strong, you should know that I’m not the only skeptic. In fact, Keith Olbermann wrote a fine piece just today articulating the kind of suspicion that many of us have but can’t seem to voice without being labeled as pro-cancer (and I have a clear record of voting anti-cancer).
And while I hate to be the punctuation police, your conspicuous lack of commas in the part of your email when you suggest that I pull my "scarcasm and jelousy" out my "ear weiner nose" leaves me confused. Did you intend to tell me to pull these things from my ear, then call me a wiener nose? Or were you telling them to pull them out of my ear wiener while calling me a nose? Or something else equally disturbing? Please advise.
Finally, while Austin sounds like a cat not to be crossed, I have to warn you that I have a friend with expertise in the martial arts as well (give it a minute or so to load). I think it would be sad and unnecessary for him to have to shame and maim you or Austin. Maybe we should pull back on the violent rhetoric, no?
Peace, Preston, peace,