Dearest Spaceman Jones
I am a desperate man with almost no good charms and bad breath. The ladies are avoiding me like I am the plague and the men enjoy my presence because it increases their chances. It hasn't been very difficult for me until recently when the most gorgeous of woman life forms entered my local ecosystem. The first time I saw her, I immediately started quoting Mark Twain. . .it's this thing I do when I'm nervous. I need your help Spaceman! Or Huck Finn and his hooligans will be up on me forever more!
Dear Deranged Lover
Firstly, if I am to get you straight, you need help with a person of the female sorts. Personally, I will be of no help to you there. Sorry.
Secondly, my cousin, a french romantic, is very much one of the people who would be happy to flaunt his success in your face while pretending to give you advice!
Third, you should cry in your pink bathrobe for 3 days, and 4.7 nights. Maybe then, you will be a week older. And, alas, a week closer to "the greys..."
