September 29, 2005

Dear Playboy

Playboy

680 North Lake Shore Drive

Chicago, Illinois 60611

Dear Hugh Hefner,

I am a short, hairy, nerdy obese man with a bad odor. Some say I smell like stale Hawaiian Punch. I don’t smell it. Anyway, all my life I’ve had trouble with the ladies. This one time I asked a girl out on a date, and when I went to pick her up, I realized I forgot my pants. What was even more unfortunate was that her father answered the door. Oh, this was the President’s daughter, and it was the White House.

Listen. You’re pretty old, but you still attract the younger ladies like you were a giant industrial magnet attracting the most perfectly charged iron particles. It’s like you’re oxygen, and they’re all hydrogen, and you are able to form multiple chemical bonds that enable the atoms to unite and form H₂O. Or something along those lines.

I was wondering if you could give me some advice. You know, instructions on how to live life the “Hugh Hefner way.” I was thinking of starting my own Playboy mansion, but then I realized I was a short, hairy, nerdy obese man with what some people say is a bad odor. I still can’t smell it. Do you?

Anyway, if you have a pamphlet or a brochure or something that details this information I would highly appreciate you sending it to me. I will even pay for postage if you want me to. I just can’t go on living the rest of my life as a short, hairy, nerdy obese man. You think I smell too, don’t you?

Sincerely,

Kevin Dickinson

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