Letters: The Problem With Kyle

Dear Kyle,

I just want to clear up a few things about what happened at Maggie Milthfoperson's place last week during the 1985 Cockeysville City Council 20th-year reunion bash. I sense from the 16 irate phone messages you've left on my voicemail at my home and office that you're still upset about

a) The argument we had.
b) What you believe took place in the spare bathroom just after Terry Knitclouse fell into the punchbowl.

As for the argument, if you still feel that my performance on the Park and Playground Budget Subcommittee was sub par, I agree to cease defending my actions, drop the issue entirely, and quit responding to your criticisms by sticking my tongue out at you while wiggling my backside. After many heart-to-hearts with my wife and our pastor, I'm slowly accepting that my behavior has only inflamed an already heated debate. That is to say, I will cease my actions AFTER I've said, for the 500th time: I NEVER AUTHORIZED the repainting of the community swing sets to pink and lime green in July of 1987!! And if I had, I would NEVER have chosen those colors. And I would never have called the Cockeysville Invader and tipped them off to the resulting scandal, something I wish you would just put behind you, as the rest of the community has.

As for the wildly misinterpreted scene in the bathroom, I was not trying to steal your wallet out of your coat, nor was your wife involved in some insane plot to ditch you and take off with me and your money. I was incredibly drunk, Kyle, and put your coat on my accident. I had your wallet in my hands because I couldn't figure out why it was in my coat, and your wife was graciously helping me understand my mistake without making me feel embarrassed--or drawing undue attention to the fact that I'd had a few too many Pabst. I DID NOT shove Terry into the punch bowl to create a diversion, as you've claimed, and I DID NOT leave immediately after the incident because some "big plan"--as you termed it--had been foiled. The fact is I left because I had a stash of killer goofballs, but not enough to share.

The sooner we forget all this and get on with life, the better. Please stop calling my home. The kids have heard several of your messages, and I'm sure you can understand that our conflict is difficult to explain to a curious child.

Kisses,
Spank