Dear MOMI,
I don't mean to nag, but when will Bryony be translated into
French?
Until it is, I will have no excuse to go to Paris and promote the sport
of French Sumo Wrestling, the rules of which I'm sure you've heard me say many
times. (Should you need a refresher, I'd be glad to recite them.)
Why this is important?
French Sumo Wrestling its one of the few sports where I still
could be a professional, given that no baseball scouts ever saw me throw
newspaper and instantly realized that I belonged in the majors (as a pitcher of
course).
This oversight has haunted me all my life. It’s affected my
cash flow, crippled my desire to break records (such as most strikeouts, lowest
era, and most insulting limerick recited to a homerun hitter), and carried a
major impact to my wife count.
Naturally, baseball would have never been the same, and my
wives would have gotten to march in the ECDP (Ed Calkins Day Parade) with the
most attractive, most wealthiest single man in baseball, if not the world. And
since as you know being married to me does not prohibit marrying or being
married to another man (or men), women would marry me just to attend that event.
To set this right, I need Frenchmen to step up their Sumo
game. Frenchmen after Frenchmen must destroy one another in front of cheering
French women before one of them, having demolished all others, can credibly
claim to be the world's best. Then (undoubtedly) I will be summoned to Paris to
set the record straight. If the paycheck is right, it should be the biggest
bout since David used his slingshot.
I ask you to attend to this, not for myself, but for the
future times, wives, and children yet to be. So one might ask you this
question, "Would you have been the most important novelist since the invention
of writing had you know the responsibilities it would pour on you?"
It's too late, Denise.
Ruthlessly yours,
French Sumo Great, Ed Calkins.
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