Crash

Hey, John,

I need to apologize for borrowing your pen.

But first, thanks for letting me crash at your place last night and entrusting me with your cat while you were at the real estate conference. You're a great friend. I hope you had fun and learned a lot. I hope you went to a bar and met the love of your life. I hope I'll be your best man and the godfather to your first born. But I digress.

Back to the pen. You see, I just wanted to write you a nice thank you note. That's what friends do for another friend who does them a favor, right?

Irony is a powerful force.

Your pen — sleek and clicky — was ever so full of promise. I only wanted to use it for a minute or so. Then, it leaked all over my fingers and on my first draft, which was some of my most eloquent writing. Alas, it is no more.

Naturally, I went to wash my hands in your mostly practical bathroom. You know how your sink has that weird quirk where it sprays at a 45-degree angle, like it's auditioning for a waterpark? Of course, it got my shirt all wet. No biggie. It was just water, right?

Well... I took my shirt off to let it dry, but in doing so, I bumped the potted plant that you keep in the bathroom in order to mask the odor from the cat box. As precariously as it was perched on the shelf, it fell dramatically, akin to being murdered in a Sherlock Holmes mystery. At that point, there were pottery shards, bits of plant, and soil all over the floor.

To take care of the mess, I found your shop vac in the garage. When I started it up, it was making a noise like a cross between a kazoo and a baboon. I assumed that was normal, but regrettably, it was not. Instead of sucking, it blew dirt everywhere, which clouded up like Mount Kīlauea before an eruption.

That triggered the fire alarm. Your cat got freaked out and started darting everywhere. My following her to calm her down seemed to have the opposite effect. She climbed the front curtain like a caffeinated mountaineer. The whole curtain fell on your coat rack, which caused an umbrella to launch as an airborne missile, directed at your television. Remember me telling you to wall mount that thing? Sorry, this is not supposed to be an "I told you so" apology.

Anyway, of course, it toppled and smashed.

Meanwhile, your very vigilante neighbor, Tammy, upon hearing the fire alarm, called 911. Is she single? She seems super sweet and pretty. Can you get her number for me? I have to admit that I was thinking about her the rest of the night. But that mess is a "sorry" for another time. There I am, digressing again.

Back to the situation. Don't be surprised if you ever actually need the fire department or an ambulance if they refuse to show up. They were very kind but firm about what entails an emergency.

I have cleaned up most of the dirt and your pieces of TV. The curtains are… resting. The cat and I have reached a tense but respectful ceasefire.

Also, I bought you a new pen. It’s not as nice as yours. It's not sleek and clicky. Plus, it doesn’t leak, so I guess in a way, it lacks character.

You can have my TV, as long as you mount it and let me come over to watch. I promise that I won't touch a thing!

Your contrite buddy,

Nate