A Love Letter

Dearest Harlan,

It has been too long since I gazed upon your white goatee, trimmed like a true Southern gentleman; your robust figure, clothed in only the whitest of whites. I can still recall your bola tie, shaped so much like the package you mightily wield in your pantaloons though many times smaller in girth.

Too many days--even seconds--have gone by without the sound of your voice sweetly coaxing me to clean the bathrooms and deep fryer, the drawled stutter eerily reminiscent of a virile Foghorn Leghorn preparing to mount both that dog that always gave him such trouble and the tiny yet determined chickenhawk that he so masterfully played as a fool.

And though so much time has passed, I can still recall the taste of the oils that always coat your body, the taste of seven herbs and spices.

Hungrily,
CB