by Anthony Scibelli
Dear Barney,
As your bowling partner and lifelong bosom chum, it pains me to have to write this letter. But for far too long, you have ignored a serious, maybe even life-threatening issue, that is negatively affecting your friends and loved ones.
Barn, you have a very serious problem. When you first started trying to steal my Fruity Pebbles, I thought it was nothing. A jocular game between two old pals, and nothing more. But that was years ago, and your schemes have only increased in their strangeness, tenacity and outright mean-spiritedness.
And really, why can’t you just buy your own fucking cereal?
Maybe you could use some of the money that you’ve invested in any of your unnecessarily elaborate schemes. You’ve bought zeppelins, pretended to be space aliens, designed and built a working two story T-Rex robot. You even invented virtual reality, simply for the purposes of stealing my breakfast. Virtual reality! I pedal my car with my fucking feet, and you invented virtual reality, just to steal a bowl of cereal!
But perhaps I’m at least partially at fault here. After all, I probably should know better than to constantly fall for your pranks. How could a grown man allow himself to believe that he was visited by a time traveler or a superhero? And not just once, but constantly. And for years! Like the time you pretended to be “The Master Rapper.” You burst into my home, told me you were a world famous rapper, and I just went along with it. Despite the fact that you looked, sounded and acted almost exactly like my oldest friend. I even got up and danced along, forgetting the years and years of pranks leading up to it. I guess I was trying to convince myself that this was real, and not the deranged ramblings of my friend.
Have you even considered the effects this is having on your family? You are supposed to be a provider, and yet any money that you make in your ill-defined occupation, you immediately burn through for the slim chance of eating some of my Fruity Pebbles (part of a balanced breakfast).
I can’t imagine these are the workings of a healthy mind. Please, get some help.
Your pal,
Frederick J. Flintstone
