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(paying the bills)


Charlene



Hey listen, I know what you're thinking, "Oh my God he's addressing me on his novel's unofficial website because he's still hung up on me," but nothing could be further from the truth, and I know truth, believe me. I've made my ridiculous fortune by smearing the truth like a foundation of saltiest lox uon the masses... That's right, Charlene, I'm rich as Rockefeller now. Makes you want me, I know, but it's too bad for you because I am so... so... SO over you.

And I know the second thing you're thinking, "hey, doesn't this violate that smartass judge's no-contact order?" No, don't be so simple all the time, that's crazy. I could be talking to anyone named Charlene, not just you. It's not like I'm right behind you now or anything. That's nonsense. I have people who do that now, and might I suggest, that pastel above your couch isn't very becoming and I'd argue you paid too much for it... that's just me though.

I just wanted to take a quick minute to tell you, not just that I'm so very over you, which I so totally am, but just how over you I am. "So, so very", that's how over you I am.

You don't need to live your life according to us getting back together again, because it's not going to happen. I'm over you and you should really get over me too. Stop talking about me to everybody you come in contact with (like police detectives, judges, my wife, etc) and move on with your life.

It's not that I think about you, but because of who I am, I know that you've got to be totally hung up on me, so I put up this page for you, you know, so that when you came around looking for me to see if I'm still waiting for you, you could see that I'm not. Seriously, I'm way past you.

You know I'm happily married with three beautiful children whose names I can't recall right now, and that I wouldn't just leave my wife for you, not even if you asked me to, and I'm not just saying it because I imagine you're not going to, but if you were thinking about it, just know that it's a crazy idea. That's fine, I'm okay with that. You never were that bright anyhow, what would make me kid myself that you'd ever come to your senses, least of all now?

No, I just wanted you to know that I'm happy for you. Hell I couldn't be happier. No, in my new life without you I'm right about the happiest man in the world. Just yesterday I was telling my burning effigy of you how little I even think about you these days. You're ancient history, and this lengthy essay should help you understand just how totally and completely over you I really am, which is completely and then some.

If you do want to call me or something, just to tell me that you're over me too or something, I've kept my pager number active from when we dated. It's cost me like a thousand dollars these past 14-years, and nobody calls it anymore, but I've kept it around for old time's sake. You know, in case an emergency happens with somebody from my life back then. It's no big deal, I'm just a good friend that way. I never know if you might need a shoulder to cry on, and if you did and I'd shut off that pager, who would you turn to? I kept it for you. So call me, no one else has dialed it in at least seven years and I'm starting to feel a bit silly. You can cry on my shoulder and stroke my chest if you must, but not for me, for you.

Call me, Charlene. Call me now.

No seriously, right now. I have a lot of money these days and I can see you, my private investigators have set up cameras to watch you and I can see you right now (which does not violate the terms of that smartass judge's restraining order) so stop looking at that computer screen and call me. At least degause it, it looks terrible from my vantage and the scan rate is mooking up my surveillance in bad, bad ways. It's just irritating.

I love you... um, as an old friend.

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