My Sincerest Apologies

Dear Jessica's Nanny,

Years ago, when we were in high school, I spent many fun-filled days at your house on Peach Street. Your cookies were divine, and I appreciated that you never complained when we would get stoned in Jessica's bedroom.

I have something that has been on my mind for quite a while, though. Actually, I never really think about it unless I'm stoned, but it has nevertheless caused me countless nights of anguish over the years.

The thing is, the majority of the time I spent at your house, I was fairly intoxicated and a little careless. Sometimes I could not find an ash tray because they had disappeared into other rooms, so I had to improvise. Really, I just didn't want to ash on your carpet. I do respect you dearly.

Anyhow, sometimes we used the little bronze statue of a poodle on a pedestal by the front door--you know the one. It had a bobble head that could be removed from the base. It was really a perfect ashtray--ridiculously creative, too.

I'm sorry I ashed my cigarettes in your dead dog's urn. I felt terrible about it, really, but I couldn't bear to tell you (even though it's all ash, so it doesn't really matter that much). But now that you're dead, Nanny, I figured I would go ahead and let the cat out of the bag. Please accept my apologizes. I hope you're doing well.

Thinking of you,

Ben