friendly futures

March 19th, 2049

By-and-By the Rising Tide

Upland, Penn's Woodland, The New World

My General, My Leader, My Liege,

Today has been more remarkable than most in the old Hansen house-hold!  The sovereign lady of the estate awoke with a fiery thirst for cider, which no mortal reason could o'erpow'r.  Deaf to my protests, she forbade its absence with a truly regal wave of her hand, and off I went to the store, lickety-split!  I, who once thought myself something of a Lothario, am now reduced to nothing more than a LABRADOR.  I wish I could report that the tragic injustice went fully answered, but yours truly returned in due course from the market with one fine jug of the stuff in each hand (for good measure).  The piquant thirst of the lady satisfied, I was at last able to begin my day in earnest, and would have gotten a fair heft of work out of the way if it weren't for her infernal glug-glugging!  I confess to you, my earnest and discreet friend, that little of the fabric of marriage gets woven on the classical weft of love and kisses.  The greater part of it is, I've learned, hand-sewn from irritants, bad habits, and a bit of cartilage.

The old bag appeased, I set my sights hungrily on my favorite of breakfasts, the story enclosed in your latest epistle.  As expected from your seasoned pen, "The Crime of Eliot Doveman" is quite pleasing, quite pleasing indeed!  I devoured it all in one gulp, and the lady found me smacking my lips happily shortly thereafter.  Your sense for the mysterious and suspenseful is as masterful as ever; to boot, your handling of swordfights and similarly wild scenes has grown tremendously.  As I read, I caught myself ducking to avoid the blows of your "bedeviling ruffians"!  Yes, a bit of the schoolyard bravo came back to me; I rose from my chair to engage the world, and nearly knocked out the floor-lamp!  But do not confuse me with old Don Quijote!  This old man is not about to give up the fight!

I received a note the other day from our Boy Down South, inviting me to take a week or so to visit down there and take in the sights.  I normally wouldn't brave the heat, as you know, but I have yet to see the new layout since the Great Rearrangement, and there's a piece of adventure to it, as well.  The wife has put her imprimatur; all that's left is for you to jump in as well, O Caius!  There's room enough for three, or four, or five!

Lastly, hmph -- thou knowest well how this blustering sage lives, and it's without focusing overmuch on hisself.  I proceed along much ever as I have.  My eyes open, and it's all downhill from there.  But the dreams I have, such dreams!  Take note for when I've gone, my friendly -- Freud himself could not interpret my visions, nor any other somnial sage.  Avast!  You and I each carry secrets, if the world only knew!  I've half a mind that mine are premonitions, but the future's in code, and I'm no cipher.  Lucky Nostradamus, who never knew he did not know!

Welp, the Summer Moon rises, the Winter Sun sets, and the Harvest Boots are out to dry on the patio. I'm off for that conference we'd discussed, the one with too many baguettes and not enough bagels.  Woe to me, that I should think of two instances of travel in the same letter!  Much trust and love to you for your generous offer to oversee our little rodents -- if they give you any trouble, the little "Barbecule" and I are only a tin-can phone-call away.  Now shove off, you rappscallion!  You're scarin' the fishes!!!

With deepest respect & unending servitiude, YRS,

Bartholomew Logjam II