Another peep into my inbox.

Dear Landlords,

Please come back and install the blinds that you installed the supports for back in January, so that I can do my Yoga Booty Ballet (which is just as ridiculous as it sounds, but also surprisingly awesome) without the neighbors joining in.

Thx.

Raych


Dear Frozen Bananas,

I hope you are actually good for me, and not all just in my subconscious, because I have been eating a lot of you, and mostly dipped in chocolate. I suspect that there are more calories in you than you allege. I have been Yoga Balleting my Booty, so you watch yourselves.

Love,

Raych


Dear Sunny Deck,

Let's make out.

Love (even more than the bananas),

Raych


Dear Vanity Fair (the book, not the magazine),

You are long. I thought Edgar Sawtelle was long, but you do not seem to end. Also, due to all of your pages, you are heavy and difficult to read on the aforementioned deck. You require two hands to hold, hampering my ability to eat a frozen banana. If you could please conclude sometime in the next hundred or so pages, I would be much obliged.

With respect for your place in literary history, if not a lot of love,

Raych