Dear Pity Party,
I recently moved to Newark, NJ, and quickly befriended my neighbor Alfonzo, who is sadly unemployed in this frail economy. He and his friends are always asking to borrow money and playfully punching me in the chest, and I simply can’t afford to lend him money anymore, what with all the medical bills for my broken ribs and sternum. I’m also concerned that he’s not spending wisely: he owns a variety of grills and takes care of several pit bulls, and he’s always showing me his nice handgun.
How can I help my buddy out?
A Faithful Friend
I’m afraid I have some bad news: Alfonzo is not your friend. Even worse, you pretty much just have to continue giving him money. However, I can help you do so with minimal conflict.
You see, when my step-father forced me from my one-room apartment in order to use it as his son Spencer’s “tantrum room,” I began sleeping alternately in my car, my workplace, and, occasionally, a holding cell. It was in one such holding cell that I met Justice, who used me as a hostage to escape.
Thus began a never-ending cycle that continues to this day: every evening Justice stops by my new home to relieve me of my savings. Under our current deal, he gets 40% of my salary after taxes. In return, he provides me the valuable service of killing small animals in my living room, animals that he assures me would otherwise damage the value of my property, and secretly conspire to rob Justice of his virility.
And so, you and I are birds of the same feather. However, I advise you to freely donate your feathers to Alfonzo, lest he ruffle them, which in this conceit is a metaphor for shooting you.
You can still make ends meet by forgoing conventional medicine. Bones heal with time, regardless of X-rays and painkillers. I’ve heard that laughter is a great substitute, though I don’t currently have the means to explore that particular option.
Also, just a heads up – if you miss a rendezvous with Alfonzo for whatever reason, he will most likely begin breaking your windows. My advice is to just not have them replaced. It works out best for everyone: I don’t have to waste money on windows, and he doesn’t have to hurt me. He’s always saying that he doesn’t want to hurt me, but I leave him no choice.
Oh, and don’t even consider contacting the police. They’re going to have a lot of questions about those animal corpses, and you probably don’t have the money for a solid lawyer.
Need advice? Join the Pity Party by emailing [email protected]. I’ll do my best to help!*
*Please, no more chain emails. I deleted one last week, and seven days later at midnight a dead girl appeared by my bedside asking for my skin.