Dear Max, Happy Crapday

Sometimes I write letters to a six year old named Max.  Here's some. And another.  Sometimes he writes letters back.  We hate each other. Don't worry. It's healthy.

~~

Oh hello Max,

Isn't life full of coincidences?  We both live in New York now.  We both went to your grandparents for Thanksgiving.  We both know you're having a birthday tomorrow.  And only one of us is going.

So EVERYBODY got invitations but ME?  I like Chuck E. Cheese.  I like celebrations of life.  Just because I'm a grown up man, I don't have feelings? I mean I'll be cool if I don't go. I won't like eat a mountain of french toast because it tastes like self loathing.  I won't cry in the shower until the hot water runs out. I'm just saying that this is low, Max. Even for you, you heartless little monster.

Do you know what I'm going to do tomorrow while everyone goes to your birthday party? I'm going to find a simultaneous party going on at the same Chuck E. Cheese.  And I'm going to make it louder and more fun than your party.  Too bad you're not going to get all the free tokens I'll be giving to the OTHER BIRTHDAY BOY. Too bad you won't be learning MY SECRET COOL HIGH FIVES.  Too bad you won't be receiving an ACTUAL AK-47 with PRE-LOADED BANANA CLIP.

Nope. Because your party is going to suck. I'll make sure of it.  I'll slip the high school student playing Chuck E. Cheese a twenty to ignore you.  Or maybe even shake his head at you.  Or give you the shame fingers.  A very disturbing image of scraping one index finger across another.  It will haunt you.

Do you want to be traumatized?  Do you want to have a pitcher of Dr Pepper spilled on you, by a waiter I also bribed, in front of all your friends? Do you want to see a confused child at the party next to you be reunited with his estranged Uncle Robert who has brought him his very own donkey and illegal automatic machine gun that could have been yours?  Because I'm telling you, I have a very convincing story concocted about this Uncle Robert character and how he was switched at birth in the hospital.

Fine. Do whatever you want.  Have your party.  Get older without me.  Even your arch enemy can have feelings, okay? You'll understand someday.  When you're not so stupid from being young.

Tomorrow, if you look to your left I'll be the guy at the other party wearing a mock turtleneck and blond goatee, trying to calm a donkey.  If you look really hard, I'll be mouthing Happy Birthday as everyone sings it to you.  I'll be the one with a tear in my eye.  And a tear in my heart.

Love and Hate,

James Best