a geode out there, let alone a jewel. I guess Jason doesn’t remember how hard it was for him to meet a girl who was actually attracted to him, and not the Trent family fortune.
Apparently, Jason doesn’t remember Michelle. Be sure to ask him about Michelle, Stacy. Or Fiona, for that matter. Or Monica, Karen, Louise, Cathy, or Alyson.
Go on, ask him. I’d be curious to see what he has to say about any of them.
What Jason doesn’t seem to realize is that he has already found the best girl in the world. He forgets that some of us losers are still out there looking.
So tell your husband to cut me a little slack, will you, Stacy?
And thanks for the invitation, but if it’s all right with you I’ll skip dinner this Sunday.
Love,
John
P.S.: Write back to me at my new address, listed above. I’m not sure whether it works yet.
To: [email protected]
From: Jason Trent
Subject: Your new email address
John:
Jerry lives? Are you insane? Have you lost your mind? THAT’s the address you chose as your “redhead safe” account?
You might be surprised to know that most girls don’t like JerryGarcia, John. They like Mariah Carey. I know this from watching VH1.
And stop writing to my wife. All I’ve heard from her all day is Who’s Alyson? Who’s Michelle?
Next time I see you, Jerry, you are a dead man.
Jason
To: Jason Trent
From:
Subject: Jerry
You’re wrong. Most girls prefer Jerry Garcia to Mariah Carey. I just took an office poll, and Jerry won over Mariah by a margin of nearly five to one—although the girl from the mailroom doesn’t like either of them, so her vote doesn’t count.
Besides, I looked at Melissa’s CDs when she was in the kitchen getting the root beer, and I didn’t see a single thing by Mariah Carey.
You know nothing about women.
John
To: [email protected]
From: Jason Trent
Subject: You know nothing about women
And you do???
Jason
To: Sergeant Paul Reese
From: John Trent
Subject: Helen Friedlander
Reese—
I was wondering if you could do me a favor. I need a look at anything you’ve got on Helen Friedlander, 12-17 West 82nd, Apt. 15A. She was a B & E with, I believe, an assault—a pretty serious one, since she’s been in the ICU ever since, comatose.
I appreciate it, and, no, it’s not for a story, so don’t worry about your commanding officer.
John Trent
Senior Crime Correspondent
New York Chronicle
To: Max Friedlander
From: John Trent
Subject: Helen Friedlander
Don’t worry. Everything went fine. I safely evaded Ms. Fuller’s queries about my work for the Save the Children fund. Nice one, by the way. I suppose by children you mean those eighteen-year-old gum-chewing sticks you spend your days photographing in fashions only fifty-year-old divorcees can afford?
You really are a bastard, you know.
John
To: John Trent
From: Max Friedlander
Subject: Lighten up
God, I forgot what a stick in the mud you could be. No wonder you haven’t had a girlfriend in so long. What was wrong with the last one? Oh, yeah, I remember: the Kierkegaard collection that matched the sofa. Dude, you need to chill. Who cares what books a woman’s got on her shelves?
It’s what she’s like between the sheets that matters, heh heh heh.
Max
To: John Trent
From: Sergeant Paul Reese
Subject: Helen Friedlander
Trent—
File’s on its way. Or should I say, some copies of the file that were accidentally made while the CO was at lunch. If any of this shows up in your paper, Trent, you can kiss that Mustang of yours goodbye. Consider it impounded.
Brief summation of incident involving Helen
Apparently, Jason doesn’t remember Michelle. Be sure to ask him about Michelle, Stacy. Or Fiona, for that matter. Or Monica, Karen, Louise, Cathy, or Alyson.
Go on, ask him. I’d be curious to see what he has to say about any of them.
What Jason doesn’t seem to realize is that he has already found the best girl in the world. He forgets that some of us losers are still out there looking.
So tell your husband to cut me a little slack, will you, Stacy?
And thanks for the invitation, but if it’s all right with you I’ll skip dinner this Sunday.
Love,
John
P.S.: Write back to me at my new address, listed above. I’m not sure whether it works yet.
To: [email protected]
From: Jason Trent
Subject: Your new email address
John:
Jerry lives? Are you insane? Have you lost your mind? THAT’s the address you chose as your “redhead safe” account?
You might be surprised to know that most girls don’t like JerryGarcia, John. They like Mariah Carey. I know this from watching VH1.
And stop writing to my wife. All I’ve heard from her all day is Who’s Alyson? Who’s Michelle?
Next time I see you, Jerry, you are a dead man.
Jason
To: Jason Trent
From:
Subject: Jerry
You’re wrong. Most girls prefer Jerry Garcia to Mariah Carey. I just took an office poll, and Jerry won over Mariah by a margin of nearly five to one—although the girl from the mailroom doesn’t like either of them, so her vote doesn’t count.
Besides, I looked at Melissa’s CDs when she was in the kitchen getting the root beer, and I didn’t see a single thing by Mariah Carey.
You know nothing about women.
John
To: [email protected]
From: Jason Trent
Subject: You know nothing about women
And you do???
Jason
To: Sergeant Paul Reese
From: John Trent
Subject: Helen Friedlander
Reese—
I was wondering if you could do me a favor. I need a look at anything you’ve got on Helen Friedlander, 12-17 West 82nd, Apt. 15A. She was a B & E with, I believe, an assault—a pretty serious one, since she’s been in the ICU ever since, comatose.
I appreciate it, and, no, it’s not for a story, so don’t worry about your commanding officer.
John Trent
Senior Crime Correspondent
New York Chronicle
To: Max Friedlander
From: John Trent
Subject: Helen Friedlander
Don’t worry. Everything went fine. I safely evaded Ms. Fuller’s queries about my work for the Save the Children fund. Nice one, by the way. I suppose by children you mean those eighteen-year-old gum-chewing sticks you spend your days photographing in fashions only fifty-year-old divorcees can afford?
You really are a bastard, you know.
John
To: John Trent
From: Max Friedlander
Subject: Lighten up
God, I forgot what a stick in the mud you could be. No wonder you haven’t had a girlfriend in so long. What was wrong with the last one? Oh, yeah, I remember: the Kierkegaard collection that matched the sofa. Dude, you need to chill. Who cares what books a woman’s got on her shelves?
It’s what she’s like between the sheets that matters, heh heh heh.
Max
To: John Trent
From: Sergeant Paul Reese
Subject: Helen Friedlander
Trent—
File’s on its way. Or should I say, some copies of the file that were accidentally made while the CO was at lunch. If any of this shows up in your paper, Trent, you can kiss that Mustang of yours goodbye. Consider it impounded.
Brief summation of incident involving Helen
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