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Dear Smeagle,
I don't really know how to tell you this, but our socks don't match. I think I just realized it when you smacked my a** at the mental hospital and I saw you sit on my brother. I'm sure you're slutty enough to understand that I may pee my pants. I'm returning the pictures from Vegas, but I'll keep your left ear as a memory. You should also know that I told in my confe​ssion​ today​ about​ the moose​ poach​ing and you should stop picking your nose.