Dear Readers,
I just found this lost IM exchange between Viola Chesterton and Andrew Bozelli. These BFFAAs really miss one another, but they're also trying to figure out what they mean to each other. AT (your author)
AB:
I got roped into stage crew for the fall play.
AB:
Under Milk Wood by Dylan Thomas. Kick me now.
AB:
Okay, first of all, there are 4 million people in the cast. It takes place in Wales. At first, the town is asleep, and the people are dreaming. Then, they wake up and the fun begins.
AB:
We'll see. Olivia is playing the seamstress. That's the pretty character.
VC:
She must've given a good audition. Or else she just stood there in her beauty and snagged the part.
AB:
It was both. I was there.
VC:
I wish the Founder’s Day script had some of the poetry of
Dylan Thomas. But it was written by a lonely freshman in the 1950s. The rumor is she wrote the play and then ran away from school. Caught a bus to go out west.
VC:
Thanks. Sometimes I think I won't make it another day and then they serve homemade pineapple upside-down cake in the cafeteria and I decide to stay.
AB:
Just you and a piece of cake between you staying there or
coming home?
VC:
You got it. Some people hang by a thread. I'm hanging by an
inner tube of pineapple with a maraschino cherry in the middle.
AB:
If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would that be?
VC:
Easy. I got an email blast from Verve on 8th Street. They’re
having a sale on pebbled leather boots. Hot pink with red laces.
VC:
LOL. No, really—I'd be at your house having some of your mom's vegetarian shepherd's pie with the seitan.
AB:
It tastes just like ground hamburger.
VC:
Sometimes with substitutes you can't tell a difference.
The same is not true about friends, though.
