Jeffrey D. Brauer, you old double dog in the noonday sun, you've buffaloed me for how many years now? I never realized you were some damn English aristocrat hiding somewhere in the American desert (or is it dessert?).
What the hell did you do over there to have to escape to the colonies? Did you nail your best friend's wife by a mistake and get caught at it like some red-assed rabbit with a gimpy leg?
Now I fear I might wake up in the middle of the night and start laughing again. My wife will just slug me mercilessly as she usually does when the dog has too much wine and snores loudly and I won't get no rest. I need it, you know, to post on here as much as I do to defend these fine clubs and their reputations and their legends from the constant assaults of these despicatual interlopers with no fucking manners.
Hey, look, how would you like to go with me back to England in about a month and a half? We can check out some architecture in the heathlands. I'm having brunch with the Queen and I'll consider buying you a really serious indulgence to atone for whatever you did over there and you can consider going home again.
Dear Mr. Paul,
I am in reciept of yours of the 31st. I appreciate your offer to go back to England and have lunch with the Queen, but I doubt she will entertain an audience with the likes of me. The offer of indulgence may just fit the bill, thank you.
Sadly, the "nailing" as you call it was no mistake. They caught me in the barn in a little tryst with the foreign girl they hired to train the horses. I found out it is social suicide to "sleep below your class." One wag told me it would have been better had I been caught sleeping with the horse instead of an illegal alien. First, its the kind of fetish they more freely accept, and second, the horse was at least an accredited thouroghbred.
I've been banished by the queen to an outpost called Texas. To reduce my "status" to a level where sleeping with pretty young things is acceptable, I have become a - gasp! - golf course architect. Sadly, (I think) there are more pretty young things here than there are golf courses to build.
The heat has exceeded 100 degrees (F) for over 20 days this month - more than in the last century in the old country. The natives are friendly, however, and that counts a lot for a person in my new, lowered circumstances. I used to paint english landscapes. I am having a hard time getting the knack for drawing cactus and tumbleweed, but am confident I will master the task soon. Of course, I have had to switch flasks, from scotch to tequila. Not fond of the worms.
I trust my narrative hasn't proven too boring. I know how you dislike those with what they call "verbal diarrea" and feel its positively criminal for anyone to waste so many words as I in a missive. Also, I know you probably don't give......how do the natives here say it? Oh yes, I believe "an airborne fornication" about the problems I am facing, but I wanted to fill you in on my situation, just in case.
I trust all is well in Quaker country with you and the missus. Once again, thanks for your kind offer of a trip to England. If its all the same, and not too much of an inconvenience, perhaps I could just sleep on your couch for a bit instead? Its wrong to ask, but I am desparate. And, I think you actually own a barn and horses, but after relaying the story above, well........I doubt you would seriously entertain that option.
Keeping a stiff upper......lip,
Jeffrey D. "Tex" Brauer