In this vein I should like to repent, to atone for the many, many wrongs I have committed over this past year. Forgive me, don’t forgive me, it doesn’t really matter – it just feels so good getting this stuff off my chest. Like that one time I tweezed my four chest hairs, except with less blood.
To the mailman: I’m sorry I sprayed my mail with dog pheromones. How was I supposed to know that the cliché was accurate? And don’t worry; with modern medicine, rabies isn’t fatal.
To the wild turkeys who live on my block: I’m sorry for all the honking. And for posting pictures of you and your brood in local hunting lodges. How about we compromise – I won’t run you over or offer a reward for your tasty carcasses, and you learn to use a crosswalk.
To my super, the Great G: I promise, no more ritual sacrifice. Just so you’re aware, though, that means no more Virgin Meatloaf.
To Random Coworker: it was wrong to sign you up for a year of Teen Meat. But you have so many pictures of young boys in your office…wait, those are you children? I have to make some calls.
To Friend K: I’m sorry I sent your picture to the Department of Homeland Security. But you talk crazy sometimes. And you have to admit, you’re a danger to yourself, and others.
To the Brothers: I know I can’t call off the fatwas against you. But I will pray hard for your deliverance unto the well-deserved 72 virgins. When you hear about how you’re supposed to be killed, though…you’re just going to laugh and laugh.
To Wife: Sorry for the whole pregnancy thing. If you really want, I’m still ok with selling Fetus on the black market. My EBay auction is up to $325.62!
To Parents: That, just before – that was a whole lot of inappropriate humor right there. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.