I have recently received some disturbing news that my buddy Jack Howington, (three year old son of Ben and Annie Howington) has now a new best friend by the name of Max. I guess it's his cousin. To turn this tide, I have started sending some letters to Max explaining my displeasure. So far he has not responded. Here I present these letters to you so you may see how I handled this in a very judicious and grown up way.
5/27/08
Dear Max,
I hear you've been spending a lot of your time with Jack. He's a good kid but don't get any ideas. I taught him how to feed seagulls, smack vehicles with snowballs, and throw mud at the ocean. Toy sharing does not a best friend make. Just thought I should let you know. Don't get too close.
A Warning,
James
5/29/08
Dear Max,
I hear you ignored my letter and just wiped your hands on it after a mac 'n' cheese lunch. Hmm. Well, I feel a little slighted but I'm the adult and I will not respond to this effrontery. I'm bigger than that. (And bigger than you, you midget, so watch it!)
Jack says he's having a good time with you. But he's fickle, Max, fickle! Sometimes we'd be right in the middle of tossing a ball and the Backyardigans would come on and Bam! It was like I wasn't even there! It may seem like you're buddies now but you better keep him away from Nick Kids or you'll lose him. Just like your parents might lose you accidentally at a rest stop. I mean, I hope that doesn't happen. Boo hoo. That would be bad.
Get Ready,
James
6/1/08
Max,
You refuse to respond so listen, Max, I'm bigger than you. Have you ever seen a kitten? Because you're like the size of a kitten and I'm a pine tree. An angry pine tree that hates kittens. Is that analogy clear? Can you even read these letters? Here's a few other things I can do that you can't.
1. I can open doors.
2. I could eat McDonald's until it killed me.
3. No one wipes my butt. I mean, I wipe it just not other people.
4. I understand the remote.
5. I don't grow out of my favorite clothes. At least not vertically.
Oh, and I'm like 10 times your age which means I'm like 10 times as smart as you. So suck it! Try to compute that, Glutius Maximus. It'll blow that grape you call your thinker.
Here's the deal. You tell Jack you're not best friends anymore. Don't give him a reason, just start taking away toys and slap him or hit him with a Tonka truck. My own best friend pulled down his pants and lobbed his own poop at me. That ended things real quick. But save that for last resort.
You better do this, Max! I don't want any letter from you explaining your feelings. Yeah, I can just picture that:
Dear James, It's me Max blah blah blah I can't write words.
Give Jack up! I mean it!
I really do,
James
6/5/08
Dear Max,
Listen, dumdum. Your best friendship with Jack is doomed. Do you even know what that word means? Probably not. Because you're three.
I may live like 800 miles away but I can drive. A car! Not a Matchbox. A REAL car. And I don't have to sit in a baby seat either. Because I'm not a baby. Like you.
Sure, you and Jack are the same age and have similar interests like wooden trains and Dora and spinning in circles but I have access to money. Do you know what that is, buttmouth? It's what your parents have that keeps you from starving! Do you know what else is great about having money? I can buy candy and toys whenever I want. Boom!
Can you get money? No. A little thing we Americans like to call Child Labor Laws. So don't think about trying to work, Maxie Pad. Because the government won't let you! Think about that while I shove my face full of Milk Duds. Mmmm. Money tastes good.
What's a matter, Max? Are you crying? I don't cry, Max. Because I have a little something called communication. And shame. Have you ever tried negotiation instead of crying? No. Of course not. Because you suck at language. What about the word ire? No? Because you deserve mine!
Cry yourself to sleep, little man. I'm going to play X-Box and eat Otter Pops until I'm sick. Because I'm an adult. Sucker!
Awesometown: Population Me,
James
james,
ReplyDeletelisten, i know things are a little topsy turvy right now, but change is a part of life. my hopes are that one day you, max and i can all play ball together and then run as fast as we can into someone's crotch. hang in there, pal. we're still friends, unless you keep harrassing my cousin and then i'm gonna have to get a restraining order and i don't want that.
be cool,
jAcK
Jack is right: you need to be cool. I think that is why he chose his cousin over you. He chose. Move on. Don't be the needy friend that offers to buy stuff and take you places... never mind, I think that your relationship might have always been this way. Did Jack ever invite you over? Are you always calling him? Did he say you were his best friend or did you just say that he was yours? Do you have to bribe him to hang out with you? It's time to examine the relationship and also time to stop sending hate-mail to a three year old--before you end up in prison.
ReplyDeleteDear "Jack",
ReplyDeleteHere's how I know it's not you. Usually, if you don't like something you just say, "NO!" and swat your arm at me. But if I'm believing this sudden verbosity, then you, my friend, are severely misled by this Max character. And if anyone needs a restraining order, it's Thomas the Train and your creepy devotion.
James
Candace,
Whatever. Jack adores me. As would your children if I was near. Right now I'm just their weird infrequent uncle. If Jack knew how to dial a phone, he would call. And he always runs to me first out of everybody. (Except for his parents...and grandparents...and uncles and aunts...)
Just imagine if it was YOUR own child choosing Max over you?! I mean, really.
ReplyDeleteJames! What in the name of "Brenda Fricker" happened to you guys last weekend??? I am severely wounded and may never regain my strength.
ReplyDeleteAlso this is a funny entry. I'm particularly fond of the part where you tell this 3 year to {quote}...suck it!...{unquote}
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
ReplyDeleteSordid and disturbing, yet I couldn't take my eyes off the page.
ReplyDeleteAnd I'm glad I'm not the only one who has referred to a Max as "Maxie Pad".
Keep it coming.
Dear James,
ReplyDeleteFor the record, I had not yet seen said "letters" until tonight when my mommy woke me up from tasty slumber, pushed aside my blankie, shoved her laptop onto my tiny (but muscular) lap and put me to work fixing this PR poopie hole you've stuck me in. What's the deal? I have a reputation to protect, primary kids to smack around. Those sunbeam suckers can't rule themselves, ya know? So stop scarin away the ladies. And just so you know, I have no intention of giving Jack up. He’s my wing man. Do you have a wing man of Jack’s caliber? One that can simultaneously pick his nose and give you that “come hither” look? Oh yeah, Uncle Ben. A close second. So check it: You're like, 50, dude. Shave off the creepy mustache and find a friend your own decade. Unless you’re the James that says choo choo and has a 5 on his side, you don’t stand a chance.
Hugs,
Max
Um, James, I think you were just schooled.
ReplyDeleteI've responded to your letter, Max. Read up. I'm onto your little game and now your parents know. You're gonna be a street urchin by the end of the day.
ReplyDelete