The Funny - Bub Letters

Here's something I wrote when I was thirteen. Reading some of the old things I wrote, I wonder if I wasn't a much better comedy writer when I was a kid. (I tried my hand at humor columns last year.) I guess I just enjoy reading my youthful humor, for its silliness.

It's not even that funny, but see if you enjoy "Bub Letters." It's about the breakup of a friendship. :) Once again, I left the mistakes in.


Bub Letters I

Dear Bubzealsky, How are you? I hope you are well. Thank you for the nice eraser you gave me for Pumpkin Pie Day. It really looks like a pumpkin. Are you sure it isn't the same one I gave you on Halloween? Yer Friend, Bubskee.

Dear Bubskee, I am doing terribly. Just last night, when I read your letter, I got the cold. I am convinced that you gave it to me. Only this morning I fell down the stairs when I was going to get a tissue and I broke both legs. I hold you highly responsible and expect you to pay all the doctor bills. As for your letter, it was extremely rude and impertinent, and I do not care to comment on it beyond that. By-the-way, today is national Give-Your-Best-Friend $1000 day. I'm still awaiting your check. Yer Friend, Bubzealsky.

Bub Letters II

Dear Bubzealsky, Since your extremely rude letter has arrived, I have begun to wonder why I ever considered you a personal friend. Your illness had nothing to do with me, I have not been sick for more than a year. And since you think you have the right to verbally batter and demand $1000 dollars from those you choose to consider your friends, you need not consider me your friend any longer. Yer un-friend, Bubskee.

Dear Bubskee, I had not thought you could be so apsolutely obnoxious untill I received your letter. Upon your request, I shall no longer consider you a friend. I shall go so far to say that those who are not friends are most commonly enemies. From now on I shall consider you that. Yer enemy, Bubzealsky.

Bub Letters III

Bubszealsky, I shall take the hint and consider you an enemy also. As you may notice, I no longer adress you as "Dear Bubzealsky." By-the-way, today is Give-your-enemy-a-punch-day. I'm sorry I couldn't do that. Yer enemy, Bubskee.

Bubskee: I also shall no longer address you as "Dear." I too saw that today is Give-your-enemy-a-punch-day. I regret I could not do so. I would have made the trip to Harrisburg to accomidate you, but I am still hospitalized because of my broken legs. You don't seem a bit sorry. After all, it is your fault! And I do not intend to let you forget it untill you pay the doctor-bill. Yer enemy, Bubzealsky.


(Ideally, the letters should continue, and get worse and worse until they miraculously save the world, and make up. But that's all I wrote.)