Disclaimer: This letter is mine. I wrote it for English class. We had to write it between two characters and this one happens to be one from Gatsby to Nick. This is not slash. This is Gatsby praising Nick for helping him meet Daisy once again. The novel on which this is based does not belong to me, it belongs to F. Scott Fitzgerald. Enjoy! Try not to puke though (I intended to mock Gatsby's sentimentality, and I hope I did), but if you puke anyway, I'll consider my work here complete! Thank you.

My dear Nick,

Can I ever repay you for the great service bestowed upon me? What luck to have Daisy Buchanan's cousin for my own neighbor! Were it not for your presence here, I would not have been able to pluck up the courage to meet her after so many years of being apart. I can't tell you how much of a wreck I was and the rain did not help the situation either. The pounding drops only echoed the beating of my heart: loud, relentless, almost painful. I wanted to run but was too afraid that if I did, a chance like this would never come again.

It was torture, standing there on your doorstep, knowing that she was inside and I was too much of a coward to have waited in the living room. I was certain that if she had raised an eyebrow with the slightest hint of sarcasm my heart would've shattered into a million pieces, never to be healed again. Of course, when I heard her dulcet tones, it was as though the heavens had opened and the choirs of angels had let free their songs of joy and sent them down through the rain. If the music from five years ago was to the tuning fork struck upon a star, this time it was as though the angels were playing on the planets as though they were part of one enormous marimba. Such bliss, such thrills, such ecstasy!

Did you see the light in her lovely eyes, hear her voice, can you possibly imagine what it was to be with her, to be next to her in the same room? No, I suppose you don't. After all, you were in the kitchen making that god-awful racket with all the pots and pans. Are you sure you didn't push over the stove? It certainly sounded like you might have. But my happiness could not have been more complete. You surprised me when you told me it had stopped raining. My dear old sport, you could've told me that the water was up around my neck with starved piranha swarming around my waist and I wouldn't have flinched or noticed in the least. I was delirious with delight!

To show her my humble home, however, was a rather humiliating experience, for nothing short of a palace will ever be good enough for her. I shall never forget her crying over my shirts, and I shall never, no never, wash them again. Her sweet tears will remain dried in the silk fabric forever and ever and I will mount them on a wall, and dedicate it into a shrine to worship her. Daisy, oh Daisy! Goddess of my heart!

Forgive a man his sentimental foolishness, if man I am. Who am I when compared to Daisy, whose delicate beauty makes the flower after which she is named pale in comparison? Certainly more so than that imbecile Tom who calls himself husband to my only love. He is not worthy of her hand, not worthy to touch it with his filthy cheating hands that are only good for playing football. Alas, as I read over this letter, I fear my only talents would involve writing romance novelettes. The burning passion that runs through my veins, ignited by our reunion, is fuel enough for my pen to write a hundred stories that could never hope to mirror the incredible beauty of our love! People may say that we view the world through rose-colored spectacles, but my words here are rose-tinted as well, for no language in this cold, unfeeling world could ever describe the pure truth that is Daisy. I am forever in your debt.

With everlasting gratitude,
I remain your humble servant,

Jay Gatsby

Author's Note: Hope that made you laugh. Please review!