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material is to us and how much trust we must have to show it to someone while it’s still a work-in-progress. So I’m flattered that you have such faith in me.
    However, I’m afraid that I must decline. At the moment I am incredibly overwhelmed with my own workload and I don’t think it would be respectful to you or your material if it’s relegated to a back burner where I won’t be able to get to it for a few months, at the very least.
    Again, I appreciate your thoughts and wish you the best of luck with your book, which I am returning unread.
    Sincerely,
Alan Z.

    Dear Big Shot—
    So you have no time for me, huh? Have so much work of your own that you can’t read the first 247 pages of my novel, do you? Well, then how do you explain that piece you wrote for Sunday’s
NY Times
Op-Ed page? Where you said that when you ran the New York City Marathon, at the starting line you purposely stayed toward the back of the pack of 33,000 runners “for pretty much the same reason that cowboys, if given the choice, would prefer to be behind the horses during a stampede.”
    Sound familiar? No? Well, it should. I’m referring to page 64 of the manuscript you claim to not have read. Where I say, “When Van Cliburn was a young boy, before he decided to become a professional mover, he wanted to be a wrangler even after his father told him all about stampedes.”
    Still say you haven’t read my novel? Or, in the very least, the third paragraph on page 64? I find that hard to believe. Almost as hard to believe that someone of your supposed stature would stoop so low as to steal from me.
    I demand an explanation.
    Kevin Traverson

    Dear Thief—
    Still
waiting for an explanation.
    An Impatient Kevin Traverson

    Hey Shithead—
    My attorney’s name is Elliott Throneberry. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
    You Know Who

    Dear Mr. Throneberry—
    I am in receipt of your registered letter and, given the letterhead on your stationery, can only assume that you are indeed a lawyer. And it’s a rather generous assumption at that, given the caliber of client you appear to be representing.
    That being said, allow me to set the record straight with the sincere hope that this matter continues no further. One: I did not read your Mr. Traverson’s manuscript. Two: To the best of my knowledge, Mr. Traverson does not own the word
stampede.
It is in the dictionary, and last I looked, his name was nowhere to be seen near its listing. However, on the off chance that I am mistaken and that word
stampede
is indeed his, and his alone, to use; may I suggest you forget about me and give serious thought to suing John Wayne’s estate, as they have a lot more money than I do and he used the word more than anyone I can think of?
    Sorry to cut this letter short, but I just heard an ambulance drive by and I suspect you have to get ready to go chase it.
    Shysterly yours,
Alan Zweibel

    Dear Mr. Zweibel—
    Congratulations on your book winning the Thurber Prize for American Humor!!!! It is so richly deserved and has already been a boon to me as I sold the copy you sent me on eBay for a price that should go even higher with the holiday season quickly coming upon us. Toward that end, can you please autograph these twelve copies and send them back in the enclosed carton? My attorney says it’s the least you can do given all the stress I’ve suffered at your hands, and I tend to agree. I feel it can serve as an excellent first step in the healing process.
    Your Biggest Fan,
Kevin Traverson

    Dear Kevin—
    Enclosed please find the copies of my novel that you sent me. And while I did not sign them as you requested, please note that I did enclose a jar of petroleum jelly, which should no doubt make it that much easier for you and your attorney to take turns shoving all twelve books up each other’s ass. And though I don’t know it firsthand, I can only presume that it will