Dear Nameless Beauty,
Please don’t alert the authorities, for they need to know nothing of the love I have bestowed upon thee with my very own two eyes. You currently look like a frightened horse whose owner tried to stick his finger into her anus to assess internal temperature, so please allow me to explain my ogling shenanigans.
Here I was in the dining hall occupying a vacant table, munching on waffle fries as sexily as I could in order to win your attention. I learned when I laid my eyes upon thee that it was YOU whom I wanted to dip into my ranch packet, not my french fries. Your golden locks and piercing blue eyes would have been admired by Hitler according to my rarely-opened textbook, but to hell with him because I saw you first. These waffle fries are really good.
Where are my manners? My name is Evan and I’m inherently creepy, but for good reason! If it weren’t for my wondering eyes, I would’ve never discovered that you existed. Scientists say that Pluto is no longer a planet, but they can’t deny your buttocks are a planet that I’d love to land on someday. This is not me calling you grossly overweight; I really mean that I want to go on a space expedition on your rump. I could make discoveries on it just like astronauts find rocks on the moon, except in this case it could be pimples in need of a squeeze or a birthmark, blessed upon you by the kiss of an angel. Oh yeah, please forgive me for accidentally burning you. There was a white spot on your face that was inconsistent with the tan you sport on the rest of your face, so I summoned my magnifying glass to correct the problem. When you respond to this letter, please inform me whether your health insurance will cover your visit to the doctor’s office.
Rats. Love is not all about physical attraction; personality is just as important if not more so. I’m too nervous to approach you in my turtleneck, so I’ll just have to assess your personality given the food that you’re currently swallowing. I’m incredibly mature for my age, so I will not comment on the phallic-shaped foods on your plate that await to be in your mouth. Is that water or Sprite that you’re guzzling? The first is a big reason why my urine matches the toilet water on a regular basis; the latter is employed to calm my tummy. If it’s a Sprite, toss it aside and let me rub your tummy if it’s in serious pain. Maybe you’re pregnant and the baby is kicking, which I hope isn’t the case because the fetus wouldn’t contain an ounce of my DNA. Can I name your little bundle of joy if you are indeed pregnant? I’m thinking Ghost, the name of Jon Snow’s Direwolf in Game of Thrones. We can train him to guard our future humble abode and tear the throats of any oncoming Whitewalkers.
Well, it’s time for me to go to class, so I’ll drop this letter off to you on my way over to the trashcan to dispose of my ranch packets. I hope you write back, because I sincerely believe you’re the most beautiful Goddess that has fallen from Mount Olympus. Those waffle fries were really good.
From my heart to yours,
Evan
My Seven Devils 