Sender’s Whereabouts: Closer than you think…

Missster Gatsby,

We hear you have rekindled waylaid plans to picnic on the moon. Let us assure you that any such plans are FOOLISH and FOOLHARDY. Esssspecially if they include advice or help from THERAMUNGO.

You haven’t heard from THERAMUNGO recently, have you?

WE THOUGHT NOT.

Watch your step, kind sir. Watch your sssstep.

Signed,

“Finch”

From:

Pliny (the Younger)
LXVII Oysterbath Way
Lower Triumphia
BCBG81

Do please release my hendecasyllables from their promise – they were guarantors to our friends for the apperance of your work, and every day brings in some new request and demand; so they now run the risk of being served with a writ to produce it. I know I am very slow to publish my own work, but you overdo even my doubts and hesitations. So bestir yourself, or else beware lest I drag those books out of you by the fury of my iambics, since my hendcasyllables failed to entice them with honeyed words! The work is already finished and perfect; revision will not give them further polish but only dull its freshness.

Please let me see your name published and hear that my friend’s books are being copied, read and sold. In view of our warm friendship, it is only fair that you should let me have the same pleasure from you as you enjoy in me.

Perturbed,

Pliny (the Younger)

Perturbed,

Pliny (the Younger)

My DEAR Pliny,

I’d rather appreciate if you refrain from sending these “helpful reminders” re: my memoirs. It is already quite difficult to produce a work of Quality and Substance with my rotten editor breathing down my neck (foul woman, quite unplesant and crass!), so I’d thank you to keep your trips of guilt and whimsy to yourself, thank you very much!

Adieu!

GB

P.S. Bridge on Tuesday? You bring the crusty loaves, this time!

c/o mayor@villetown.com

Dear SIR,

I am QUITE appalled at the form letters enclosed within your latest “attempt” at communication (if one can even CALL it that – which I cannot). As a loyal member of your citizenry – one, I might add, that is dwindling as turtles go on an orgiastic spree of consumption – it is my right duty to inform you that you are being quite the prig. Oh dear, oh dear, whatever have you reduced me to? I am INFLAMED with outrage, and you shall being hearing from both my physician (by way of a bill for my vapors) and my barrister (for undue emotionality and conflict).

Most UN Sincerely,

Gatsby

P.S. MY TRASH HAS NOT BEEN COLLECTED IN A FORTNIGHT!!!

Dear Constituant #9201,

We received your letter regarding concerns over neighborhood safety, but regret to inform you that we are unable to respond as requested due to lack of completed form 702B (in triplicate). As you are a regular taxpayer, we have included a complimentary form for future complaints. HOWEVER, should you feel compelled to make suggestions, please procure and use the appropriate form: 702A (in duplicate).

Best wishes and much luck in your future endeavors,

The Office of his Honor Mayor Oscar J. Thrumblood

Most HONORABLE Mayor Thrumblood,

I am writing as a GREATLY concerned citizen of our fair Villetown. One might say there could be no GREATER concerned body than I!

Lately, many a foul event has plagued our sleepy little hamlet: accursed Puffinry, upsetting run-ins with the YOUTH of neighboring Buffton, and now the savage killing of the young member of the Pidgewidge clan.

What plans have you and the council set forth to rectify these many signs that our little oasis in the modern world is being dragged down to the depths of probable ghetto? What assurances can you give me, landowner and upstanding citizen (who has voted for you in 46 of the past 47  electoral events*) that anything will be done to restore safety?

Pip & Tut to YOU, Sir!

Gatsby

* Gatsby was ill during election 47 with a most severe flair-up of THE GOUT, and therefore was unable to make it to the polling place.

Madam McGroo, how DO you do?

Your clinic came to my attention with the HIGHEST recommendation. Word amongst gentlemen of NOTE is that you are both a “Miracle Worker” and discreet. I count on that discretion when I tell you that I am in DIRE need of R&R (Rest and Relaxation). What started as a perfectly normal week, with talk of picnics and grand adventure! has gone sour in the Worst Way. I tell you, I am at my WIT’S ENDS!

Madam McGroo, I would throw myself at the mercy of your restorative tonics at your Earliest convenience. I want The Works. Spare no expense– my pockets are many and deep. I am new to this sort of thing, so if there is anything I should bring—a spare hat or gifts for the serving staff—please DO advise!

Discreetly yours,
Gatsby

Sender’s Whereabouts: Unknown!

Missster Gatsby,

You do not know me or my organization, but be assured, sir, we know YOU very well. It has come to our attention that you are planning an expedition to the moon. How very bold of you.

AS LONG AS YOU DEPEND ON THERAMUNGO, YOU WILL NEVER REACH YOUR DESTINATION.

This is no slander; this is a FACT. But do not despair – other “resources” could be opened up to you… for a price…and I do not speak of gold.
Do not attempt to contact us. We will contact YOU.

Signed,
“Finch”

OH DEAR, OH DEAR!

Lovely lovely Lady P,How DO you do? I wish that I could say things were SPLENDID here in Gatsby manor, but alas! I can only call this day “very good” at best. You see, I had plans for a Great Luncheon Expedition, which have been unexpectedly cut short. A trusted friend has Failed me. But MY loss is your GAIN, for you see, the picnic basket is already packed to bursting, and I can think of no one I would rather share its contents with than YOU.
Allow me to describe the contents of my picnic basket:

• 1 Italian Loaf (crusty-type)
• 3 pots of Jam (Strawberry, Plum and Blue)
• Jicama and other crudités (FRESH!)
• And assortment of savory pies (some with Ham)
• Buffalo Wings (with Caviar-chevre-cilantro dipping sauce)
• Limonade (corked!)
• Port and Sherry (3 kinds each!)

Shall we say noon at the usual spot?
Adieu, adieu, adieu!
Gatsby

Allo Gov’nea!

Del’ghtful t’ ‘ave ‘ehrd from ya ona this fine spring day! S’rry ta say, though I are, but I seem ta ‘ave cau’t a bit of tha flu, Missa Gatsby! I simply cannut picinic wit’cha on this luvly shiny day or else me gout may’haps takin me right f’orth the gave now, sir. Hey now, can ya spare a bit of that jam sir? Or a bit of the buffalo wings? Just leave it ’round me backdoor, sir, and I’ll owe ya a shiny quid for your troubles next mornin’?

Cheers and a wot wot,
Hibiscus T. Porridge

To my coy Miss Porridge,

Your tendency towards inopportune bouts of illness never ceases to AMAZE! I certainly would not want to Put You Out. Your QUICK recovery is all that matters. As for your request, you are of course welcome to ANY jam that remains (probably just “Blue”). The wings, I fear, shall be the FIRST to go.

Forever your Gatsby

My DEAREST Jasper,
Tomorrow I go to the moon, a voyage both fantastic and long overdo. The luncheon menu for this culinary expedition is planned, fear not! Now, let us get to BRASS TACKS. I shall need some form of conveyance. A resplendent (and splendid!) balloon perhaps? As long as it is COMFY, it matters little to me. Please do arrange this. I await the details of my departure.

Pip and plum,

Gatsby

Ahoy, greatest and dearest! Of course you know you can always count on me to arrange transport for any sort of journey. Any sort. But the moon you say? The moon? This will take some time to arrange, and might incur expenses beyond our standing agreement. Tomorrow will simply NOT be possible. That said, I shall get my BEST men on this operation at once and do EVERYTHING in my power to have you on the moon by week end.

Yours ever and truly,
J.J. Theramungo