Lovely Precious Dearest Dear Phoebe,

Sorry about that mess of a beginning. I hate writing the beginning of a letter, I really do. I mean, you have to decide how you feel about the recipient of the letter and somehow find one word for it. And what if the person who is receiving the letter doesn't feel the same goddamn way about you? That would be awkward as hell. And then, so you don't feel bad, they would write some phony beginning in their goddamn letter. Or even worse, the yellow bastard does not reply!

But all that is beside the point. I was really just writing to tell you not to get your hopes up or anything of me showing up to see your Christmas play, pageant, thing. What was it called again? "A Christmas Pageant for Americans"? Yeah, I think that was it. I mean, it's not that I don't care, I really do, but it's just such a lousy, long name that's it hard to remember, that's all. I wonder what type of phony spends their time writing these types of plays. Probably people like D.B. I'm not saying D.B is a phony or anything like that for Chrissake, but he did sell himself out to those big shots in goddamn Hollywood. If he doesn't watch his stinking back he'll end up writing goddamn plays with lousy, long names like "A Christmas Pageant for Americans".

So yeah, don't really count on me to show up. It's not because of you, it really isn't, but I didn't think I could stomach it. Congrats on getting such a big part though! I mean sure, it kinda sucks that you're dying and all but still. You're basically the main character! It also kinda sucks that you have to play lousy old Benedict Arnold, crumby old bastard.

You know what? This stupid letter has gone a completely different way than what I wanted it to. Just like most things I do. I simply wanted to reply to your 5 page long letter, wow, 5 pages! And in that stupid, ideal reply I would congratulate you on your part in the pageant and sound interested in the act and tell you I couldn't wait to see it and all that but no, this letter is completely different.

Instead, I told you all the opposite things and things that I don't know where they came from. I guess they were those things that I kept inside. I mean, what kind of idiot wants to sit and listen to me ramble about all my crumby, moronic ideas? No one, that's who. So I guess I just let them spill out onto this innocent reply letter. And the best part? The best part is that no one will read this letter for Chrissake! I just wasted my lousy time writing this lousy letter just so in the end I would decide not to send it. It's not like I would spend that time doing anything important anyways. It's not like I would go to library to read or do homework like those bookish bastards. I mean, I should do that but what's the point? I'm already so over and done with Pencey that there is no point in even trying to make up for anything. You know what I mean? And also, it's not like I would go do some exercise cause we all know that I don't have the wind in me for all that. I would probably just go and mess something else up.

As much as I love you Phoebe and want you to know I care I don't want to ruin your innocence with my stupid ideas and lousy language. God, I sound like one of those sappy bastards from the stupid films. I love you Phoebe, I really do. You kill me without even trying, and in a good way too, and you can keep up with my wit. You're really smart for your age, unlike most of the dumb, spoiled bastards in your school. You're probably one of the best things in my life and all but I still won't be able to bring myself to send you this letter. Some of the things I wrote I think would be best if they never saw the light of day again, just like most of the things I think.

Maybe I'll write you another letter that's more like my ideal reply and all that. But most likely not. Well since I'm not really sending this letter there is no point in saying goodbye. My goodbyes in letters are just as crumby as my hellos anyways and all for the same reasons.