My open letters

You called. I had called you. It took you so long to return it. Four or five day later we have this conversation. "What do you want?" "Whaddumean?" "You called and I could not pick up". I am thinking I could have been dead by now and you wouldn't have known, good thing it was not a matter of life and death. "Nothing, I just wanted to see how you were. You and your business environment! Not everybody who calls necessarily has to have an alternative motive and a hidden agenda" Are we normal?

You kept on blabbering and blabbering and blabbering. I was quite worn-out. I told you that. And you kept on blabbering.

I hate it when you get all giggly and drunk. And it's even worse when you smell like a spilt spirits bottle and you want to make out. It reminds me I am supposed to be driving.