Mr Tom robbins

Dear Mr. Tom Robbins,

I first found you in a magazine, quite serendipitously opening up the fateful page in which your tome was described. The recommendation could not have come from higher, in our society of celebrity worship; it was Johnny Depp who did the formal introduction. Now at first glance it seemed just a fling, a quick summer romance, I was not expecting this, the intensity of it, the need and longing I have now.

Now in your novels, I am mentioned many a time though never by name, as you do not know me, when writing about Genius waitresses and Sexy Redheads. Oh yes I am cheery not happy cheery and yes I know the difference. And though not a true redhead, I make a bottle job look like God himself spilt catsup onto my crown. Although you did not introduce me to Leonard Cohen you helped me fully entrench myself into the beauty of his poetry.

Every single gangly straw-haired man should write you a Thank-you note on cheap hotel stationary for assisting in their conquests with genius waitresses and foreign beauties everywhere. Somehow you can convince women that those gawky ones make up for their lack of deltoids and pecs with mind-blowing intellect and incredible timeless skills in the most delicate art of all, unabashed lust. And yet we lap it up, your version of romance. The sheer fact that I know that my taste in men is heartily seasoned upon your characters both intrigues and frightens me… but some how I don’t mind!

Few things are so important that I would never be caught with out them. Your book are a must have in every situation, whether at a time of sin or salvation. They have taught me more about world politics, religious clashes and the oh-so important topic of sexual politics. Really where else would I learn so many synonyms for the female bits than in your epic novels! Peachfish, dewy wolverine… Really the list amazes me beyond words. You cordially introduced me to the pleasures of beets, red haired men, the quirks of organized religion and ultimately the pure pleasure of life with just enough melancholy to keep diabetes at bay. Your novels have enlightened me to all the world’s inner monologues and I am deeply indebted to you for it.

Before I flatter you to tears, though some how I doubt you are flattered none too easily as I am sure you receive letters like this all the time, the genius you are. I merely felt the intense urge to inform you of the great contribution you have made not only to my life, although that alone is a huge chunk of it for me, but to the world in general. You inspire me to be a better writer and to simply release my work into the great unknown. Thank you in advance for taking time out of your day to read this letter. And though I wish I could have written it out in beautiful hand, my hand writing looks more like pictographs than letters so I assure you, the monotony of computer type is better for your eyes, so cheekily covered in shades. I will finish this letter now with tears as I wish I could flatter you all day. Thank you again.

Sincerely and with much love

Reba