A/N: A huge thanks to Alf, Haleigh.l, Bluzie, and Boy-o for editing and support!

xx not mine, not making any money xx

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Drop Dead, Fred

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Chapter Two


Dear Fred,

Tom suggested volunteering my time to a worthwhile cause might also help me feel useful. I took his advice and started helping out at the Sisters of Ignatius Relief Fund today. I spent the morning canvassing door-to-door for donations which was lots of fun. My bounty hunting skills really came in handy. I offered to show the other volunteers some of my take-down techniques that resulted in such generous donations but Sister Mary-Elizabeth said she thought it would be better if they stuck to more tradition methods of requesting donations.

Anyway, the Sisters must have been really impressed with my work because I've already been promoted! Now I'm in charge of the entire Advertising Distribution Department. Well, I'm the only person in my department but it's still an important position. Mostly, I'll be stuffing envelopes.

Ranger says he's looking forward to watching me work but I don't know how me licking envelopes would be very exciting. He's so selfless in his support. He said that's what friends do for each other...or did he say 'to each other'...hmmm...nah.


Dear Fred,

I was reading about this alternative form of therapy called 'Sexual Healing'. I asked Tom if he thought he could work it into my recovery. He said he didn't swing that way but then I told him I had someone else in mind. Tom said maybe I should continue working on my friendships and the rest would fall in place when I was ready. I didn't bother telling him that a certain body part disagreed. Loudly.

Instead I stopped at Walmart on the way home and bought Ranger a new shower massager. I told Ranger I wanted to do something nice for him and a massager was an effective way to help relieve…tension. After squirming in my chair through supper, Ranger said I could try out the new shower massager first because it looked like I really needed some…tension relieved.

I didn't tell him that I nicknamed his new shower massager, 'Rrrricardo'.


Dear Fred,

Have you ever heard of 'Scream Therapy'? Okay, get your mind out of the gutter…I don't mean screaming things like 'Ranger, you're a sex god. Take me now, damn it!' I read about it on the internet. It's a kind of psychotherapy that uses screaming as a tool to release anger and frustration, with the goal of improving one's emotional wellbeing.

Yesterday at breakfast, I was telling Ranger about Scream Therapy and I told him if I tried it, people in the Burg would really think I was nuts. Yeah, like that'd be anything new.

Well, after work Ranger had a surprise for me. He drove me to this isolated cabin and we took turns screaming our heads off. It felt great to blow off steam but I don't think I'd want to do it on a regular basis. Too many mosquitoes. And we probably scared the crap out of poor Bambi.

After, Ranger built a camp fire and we talked late into the night. He's so sweet and thoughtful…he even brought hot chocolate in a thermos and the stuff to make s'mores. Ranger likes his s'mores without the marshmallow…or the chocolate.

It was a great night. Sigh. I know, I know! We're just friends, just friends…Do you think if I say it enough times, I'll actually convince myself?


Dear Fred,

There's a saying, 'the truth shall set you free'. That seems like a noble motto to live by, right?

Yeah, well not so much.

I talked to Tom today about how I often hide my real feelings and tell people what I think they want to hear. It got me thinking. I decided to try a little social experiment and only tell the truth for the rest of the day.

This was one of those 'What the hell were you thinking ideas' that I often get. And act on. Impulsively. Not thinking it all the way through. When I would have been better off staying in bed. Without a phone.

It started off with Lula asking, "Does this skirt make my ass look big?" After a quick "Hell ya" I ran out of the Bond Office with my hand clasped over my mouth before Connie had a chance to ask what I thought of her new hair colour.

The day went progressively down the toilet as I managed to offend everyone from the teller at the bank to Father Albert who obviously had a very unsuccessful appointment at the' Hair Club for Men'. I knew come Sunday I was in for a whole heap of Hail Mary's and a donation of fifteen year old scotch to Father Albert's private stock.

Just when I thought the day couldn't get any worse, Mom phoned. She wanted to tell me that Joe was seeing Terry Gilman again and everyone in the Burg agreed that I let a good catch get away and he was the best thing that ever happened to me and I really blew it this time. I told Mom that if she thought Joe was such a prize maybe she should just do him herself since he'd done practically everyone else in the state of New Jersey. Like I said...I should have stayed in bed. And never answered my phone.

My new motto now is 'why ruin a perfectly good lie with the truth'.


Dear Fred,

I told Tom about my little experiment yesterday and he said that sometimes the truth can hurt. Huh, NOW he tells me...and to think he gets paid two hundred and fifty bucks an hour to dish out those words of wisdom...after the fact. Where was he when I was stepping in it and dragging it all over Trenton? Good thing RangeMan's medical insurance covers therapy.

Hmmm, two hundred and fifty bucks an hour...over an extended period of time, could add up to a lot of shoes. I wonder if I could ditch Tom and write 'Jimmy Choo' under 'Name of Therapist'. Shoe therapy...yep, works for me now if only I could convince Ranger.

Where was I? Oh, I remember...I was telling you about Tom. Well, he said that sometimes just writing down your feelings somewhere private is a good way to let go of frustration and anger rather than letting the feelings build up and up until you can't take it anymore and you-. Well, the best part of this is, no one gets their feelings hurt and property doesn't get destroyed. And the police aren't involved.

So, I hope you don't mind if I write a few letters here to some people who have been on my mind lately...I know you can keep a secret.


A/N Okay, you have to use your imagination here. All the parts below that are in brackets, unbolded and in italics would have been typed using 'strikethrough' if only it would let me! You know that cool feature on word processing programmes that makes typing look like it was crossed out with a straight line? Yeah that's the one, so use your imagination and now back to our regularly scheduled story...


Dear Ranger,

Your friendship means a lot to me. I would like to take this opportunity to thank you (by offering my body for you to ravish) for always being there for me. I wish I could find a way to repay your kindness but as you always say, there is no cost for what we have between us. (Are you sure you wouldn't consider some hot monkey sex as a down payment?)

You have become the best (lover) friend I've ever had. I wish you (would let me bear your children or at the very least how about tying me to your bed for a twenty-four hour period and having your wicked way with me) only the best. I just wanted to tell you that I love you (with all my heart and wish you felt the same about me) like a friend.


Dear Mom,

Do you remember when I was small we used to sing "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" before I went to bed? And do you remember how I would always make a wish? I still do that, you know, make a wish before I go to sleep.

Here's my wish list:

I wish you would (jump in the nearest lake some days) accept me for who I am. I'm an adult now and I think you need to let me make my own mistakes.

I wish you could be proud of who I am even though I know you're disappointed with my life choices.

I wish I could be happy being a Burg housewife or working at the tampon factory like you want me to, but it's just not who I am (and I gotta tell you Mom, really is your life so great when you can't seem to get through the day without your good friend, Jim Beam? People who live in glass houses...if you get my drift).

I wish you knew that in spite of everything I love you (and I also want to remind you that I will be choosing your nursing home in the not so distant future. Something to keep in mind!)


Dear Mr. Valduchi,

I wanted to apologize for getting upset at the grocery store today. I understand the concept of 'ten items or less' in the Express check-out line (is probably beyond your pea brain intellect) could be difficult for someone who, as you say, has a poor grasp of the English language (in spite of the fact that you were born, raised and have lived in the United States for over seventy years, dick head).

I'm sorry for my rash behavior and I sincerely apologize for any embarrassment I may have caused you (as well as any future embarrassment that may occur when I let it slip to your wife that you were buying dirty magazines along with the other gazillion items you had in your very full shopping cart).

There are some great English as a second language courses offered at the Seniors Center you might want to look into in the future (so when you try to shovel your way out of the shit you're going to be in with your wife, she just might believe you when you say you only read Playboy for the articles).


Dear (Pond Scum Sucking Dirtbag) Joe,

I'm writing this letter to apologize for my behaviour the last time I saw you. I'm sorry (you're a lying sack of shit who can't seem to keep his dick in his pants) things didn't work out between us. I feel terrible for embarrassing you at Pinos and causing a scene in front of your friends and co-workers (although really you should thank me. The pictures I handed out of you in compromising positions with various women were actually very generous to you. The photos added only about five pounds and in your case at least three inches...I would know).

I'm sorry about your truck, (and the big truck sized hole in your garage door...NOT!). I hope the damage wasn't too extensive. Oh and I'm also really sorry about all of your clothes (but damn... they made one hell of a bonfire. I should've brought marshmallows).

Thank you for deciding against pressing charges (though I'm sure it had more to do with a certain photo of you and the Mayor's wife in Ranger's possession than any concern you might have for my wellbeing). I'm glad you weren't injured; I was as surprised as you were that the gun was actually loaded. As per your agreement with Ranger, I am seeing a therapist to help me deal with my 'anger' issues (too bad you can't do anything about your 'I'm a jerk' issues).

I cherish the time we spent together and will think of you often (...yeah, how about everytime I go to the doctor over the next six months to get checked for STDs? Thanks, asshole!).


Dear Fred,

Go figure, Tom was right. I do feel much better after writing all that stuff down. Writing to Joe in this diary though did seem like a waste of a perfectly good letter, so I might have possibly made a copy of his letter and mailed it to him.

I think it's pretty safe to say that the chance for a reconciliation would be 'not in my next three lifetimes'. Funny thing is, I've never felt better!


Dear Fred,

I had an epiphany today. No, it wasn't at Tom's office; it was actually at the Super-Fresh Grocery Store. In the packaged meats and cold cuts department to be exact.

At the time, Grandma Mazur was arguing with the store manager over hotdogs, of all things. She said she refused to pay for a package of twelve hot dogs when they only sold hot dog buns in packages of eight. I'll admit that at first I was embarrassed that Grandma was making a scene and was worried about how fast this little incident would be hitting the Burg grapevine and ultimately, my mom.

Grandma had the gathered crowd riled up and chanting with her as she stood above us in the refrigerated bin amongst the various kinds of salami yelling with her fists raised in the air, 'Give me liberty or give me death'.

While I was watching her, a Rolling Stones song popped into my head. "You can't always get what you want..." I looked up at Grandma and thought about how she has always stood up for herself, not caring what others think of her.

Well Mick, I've gotta tell you, "You can't always get what you want?" The hell you can't!

I left Super-Fresh with a bag of groceries and a new outlook on life. Grandma? She left the store with a smile on her face and exactly eight hot dogs to go with her eight hot dog buns.


Dear Fred,

I know it's been a while since we last talked but as it turns out, Ranger's a really good listener too.

I've been pretty busy with Ranger and the guys. They've been training me and I'm finding lots of great ways to release my pent up feelings that, you'll be happy to know, won't get me arrested. Who knew all it would take was putting Joe's face on those little paper targets, to improve my enthusiasm and aim at the gun range. Oh, and Joyce's face on the punching bag...well that was pure genius. What a work out!

On a gentler note, Tank's been teaching me yoga and meditation. I don't really understand all of the things he's been trying to teach me about trees in forests, and chakras and auras but he does serve yummy cookies and milk after each session.

Oh, and I think you'll be happy to know that I've also decided to take a page out of Grandma Mazurs's book and go after what, or I should say, who I want. See, I knew that would make you happy!

So...Fred, I guess I'm writing to tell you...good-bye. Don't be sad; it means I'm coping better with my life, right? You've really helped me, and I'll always be grateful. If it makes you feel any better, I'm not seeing Tom anymore either. I know I gave you hell when we first met but, you've come to mean a lot to me and I'm going to miss you. Don't look at me like that, or I'm going to start bawling here...

Hey Big Guy? If you're ever lonely—and you swing that way—I have a friend I'm hoping is going to be just as lonely in the very near future. I think I've mentioned him before...his name is Rrrricardo.

I could introduce you…


The End