Dear Mr. Nice Guy,
I would really appreciate it if some day you would come be nice to me. If you did I would serve you a grapefruit the size of a watermelon and a watermelon the size of a grapefruit.
Miss Cranberry told me that she was going to be nice. I believed her. No one had ever told me an untruth or done something nice for me before. But all she did was give me a small packet of peanuts that made me sneeze and a kick in the pants.
“Why didn’t you do something nice?” I asked her. I was trying not to cry.
“I’m not Mr. Nice guy, you know,” was what she told me. And then I really did cry because I didn’t know you were a real person. But now I do so can you do something nice for me? Please?
(Random bit, written by me, found on an old piece of stationary in one of Mom’s old stationary tablets. I have no memory of ever writing this, but here it is)