Darling,
Where are you? I've called your cell a dozen times and no answer. Found out I'm in Heaven. I talked to one of God's admins and he said just post your picture on the "cloud" and I thought the cloud was like that Internet thing. He really meant a cloud; it's white and puffy and they actually have one set aside for missing persons.
It's really nice they have wifi here. It's free and comes with a backrub.
Love/Miss you,
Beth
(And the last thing I remember is waking up when we hit that guard rail.)
Sweet Elizabeth,
I have no idea where I am except it's hotter than hell. And it's like a wasteland. Can't even find a Starbucks. Bunch of unfriendly jerks won't tell me anything. Finally found a guy who lent me his computer, but had to agree to be flayed later. What a joker.
Love always,
Jack
(I might have been driving a little too fast.)
Dearest Jack,
Sorry to hear no Starbucks. I know how much that Cappuccino Double Mocha jump-starts your day. Played tennis this morning with Mother Teresa and she might look old and frail, but she's got a mean backhand.
We're having our nails done this afternoon. Couples night is tonight. I'm going with Michelangelo. He'll probably want to show me his sketches. (Haha.)
Miss you,
Beth
(Sorry I was sleeping, but what was the rush?)
Honey,
Just found out I'm in Hell. Shit. (Sorry for swearing.) What did I do to deserve this? Slept on bed of hot coals last night and—along with having nightmares—now covered in 3rd degree burns. Lunch was vegan buffet (and you know how I love meat!) and after picking at something called chard threw up.
Having nails pulled out this afternoon. Sounds like you're having fun.
Loving you & Jealous,
Jack
(I'm afraid I snuck a couple of drinks at the party and might have been tipsy. Probably should have called Uber.)
Hi Sweetheart,
Just got back from shopping with Mother Teresa and Mr. Rogers. They're a riot together. Terri puts on Mr. Rogers' sweater and mimics him perfectly, and Mr. Rogers, what a kick he is, he puts her in a headlock and makes her cry uncle.
Went shopping and bought two dresses and diamond earrings with my new Black American Express card. We were told we'll never get a bill.
We have a formal dinner tonight and Abe Lincoln is speaking. Should be fun though I hope they plugged the hole in his head.
But enough about me. Put some Solarcaine on those burns. And eat the chard. It prevents cancer.
Always Yours,
Beth
(You said you were on the wagon! Are you lying to me again? And I could have driven!)
Dearest,
Well, sounds like you're having a grand time. Are you even missing me? And not that impressed by Lincoln; I'm surrounded by politicians.
Instead of dessert tonight we had our choice of tortures. I chose the "Pear of Anguish" thinking I like fruit so how bad can it be? It's pretty bad. Without going into details there's a pear-shaped device, it's inserted into one particular orifice, twisted, and then four leaves of the pear open up. It really hurt and now, with the burns and sore butt, I can only stand.
Oh, yeah. Met Hitler at breakfast.
Yours,
Jack
(Really, dear, you can't see for shit at night. And maybe I have been lying some, but what difference does it make now? And so if I had a few drinks I blame it on Beverly. She didn't want me to break it off.)
Hey Jack Bear,
Had your favorite lunch today: greasy burgers, those twisty, thin fries, and milk shakes with real ice cream. Pope John Paul said it was 22% butter fat and who am I to argue? No such thing as cellulite, double chins, or sagging boobs here. It's sort of like Beverly Hills without the surgery. Going to concert tonight. Mozart is performing.
Always love & kisses,
Beth
(You were still seeing that tramp? So you were still cheating on me, you were drinking again, and you killed me! Did I leave anything out, you jerk?)
B,
Bet you're looking good. We're all fat here. It's mandatory.
But just finished Pilates class led by the Marquis de Sade. If you can't keep up he makes small cuts in your abdomen and fills them with hot wax.
And then if you cry out he sodomizes you.
Got sort of excited when I heard the Killers were playing here tonight. Not so much when I heard they're actual killers.
Met Satan during a Meet ‘n Greet. Smiles a lot but trust him as much as I would all these car dealers around here.
Oh, yeah, Josef Stalin didn't have his name tag on and Satan made him give birth.
Ouch!
J
(What the fuck did you think I was going to do? We hadn't had sex in weeks and you kept blaming that on your chemo treatments! Yeah, so I screwed around, drank like a damn fish, and hey, guess what? I even bought a boat which you didn't know about! And you thought I was traveling on weekends. Hah! Joke's on you, bitch!!)
Dear Jack Doll,
I did lose those extra 15 pounds. And good luck with Pilates. You might try the hot yoga too. (Haha.)
Saw The Merchant of Venice last night. Afterwards, Shakespeare took questions.
And feel for Stalin. Assume it was vaginal birth so double ouch!
By the way I finally got a dog.
It's Lassie.
Still love you,
Bethie
(I guess I was not only weak from the chemo, but blind and stupid. But I've already forgiven you, dear. Is Beverly there with you?)
Hey back at ya,
We have plays here too except we have to perform them ourselves. Last night's was Custer's Last Stand and I played Custer.
Never knew being scalped could hurt so much.
Sorry I never allowed you to get a dog. Collies are pretty.
Me
(YOU SMUG BITCH, YOU CAN JUST ROT IN … OH … fuck.)