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My Letters Answered By Future Me
by Steven Smith
posted 05.18.05
Dear Steven,
Sometimes I’m mean to Jonathan and it makes me feel bad. Am I a bad person for not being nice to him?
-Steven, Age 12
Don’t get too bent out of shape, little me. While it was pretty harsh that we shunned Jonathan, a lifetime friend, in
favor of fleeting relationships with older and decidedly cooler kids, it won’t matter in the long run. You’re a 12-year old boy
and Jonathan is a fat, obnoxious know-it-all. That’s human nature giving Jonathan the cold shoulder, not you. Besides, he’ll
eventually get Eagle Scout, a marketable degree from a renowned university and a delightful wife. You on the other hand, will attend
an unknown liberal arts school years after leaving Troop 66 as a Life Scout. Oh, and all the girls you date in college will be bitches
of the highest order.
Hey Steven,
Our English teacher asked us to memorize “The Raven” by Edgar Allen Poe over Christmas break. We’re supposed to recite it in front of
the class. It’s Sunday night, and I only know the first two stanzas. Should I give up now or do we manage to pull it off?
-Steven, Age 15
News flash, dumbass! We were lazy then and we are still lazy today. I’m writing my response from bed, for Christ’s sake, and it’s three
in the afternoon. But I’m getting ahead of myself. What we lack in a conscientious work ethic, we make up for in conniving deceit. You’ll
end up lying to the teacher, telling her that you are afraid of public speaking. When she compromises and lets you recite “The Raven” for a
tape recorder in the library, you’ll read it word for word from the folded copy in your pocket. You’ll even fudge a few lines for authenticity’s
sake, you sneaky fuck. It’s a shame that the guilt stemming from this will eventually blossom into mid-adolescent alcoholism. If you’d have
memorized that goddamn poem, I might not be drunk right now. You’re lucky I haven’t blacked out before finishing my respo—
Steven-
Michael and Tony were raggin’ on me yesterday because Karen and I haven’t done it yet. Karen says she’s not ready but Michael and Tony
are starting to piss me off. Should I try to talk Karen into it?
-Steven, Age 17
I should’ve sent this letter to my old address c/o “The World’s
Biggest Pussy”. I’d give my left nut to have a 17-year old Karen Wilkinson in bed with me now and all you can say is, “W-w-what
should I do? I’m a dickless dandy!” Brrrring, brrrring! Colonel Truth is on the phone and he wants to tell you something: you fuck
things up with Karen beyond all recognition. You try to force yourself on her at a party one night, only to be pulled off her by Jonathan
who hog ties you with some knot they only taught to Eagle Scouts. Those two get married and die old and happy, which is more than I can
say for you. You hook up with Cassie McDonald, despite the rumors that dog her every step, and elope in Vegas. She leaves you because
you’re an “emotionally abusive bastard” with a “drinking problem” and the “libido of a eunuch”. She fails to find the humor in you making
her alimony checks out to “Soul-sucking Skagg”.
Steven-
I really need some advice, man. I went out partying with Michael and Tony last night and on the way home, I crashed my Wrangler into
that big ass oak tree on Maple Lane. I’m in the hospital now and I think I’m OK even though my leg is busted up. But I guess you’d know
that better than I would… The thing is, the cops are outside my room and they said they wanna question me about last night. Should I tell
‘em I was drunk or lie about the whole thing?
-Steven, Age 25
I’d kick myself as hard as I could, square in the nards, if I knew the
pain could travel back in time and cause you more grief. In a few hours, that “busted” leg of (y)ours will be amputated, so even if I
wanted to inflict a time traveling ball buster, our withered stump of a leg doesn’t seem up to the task. Lie all you want about the
crash, it’s not going to make a bit of difference. Mike and Tony, who, incidentally, walked away from the crash with two legs each,
have already ratted you out to the cops. You should think of prison as a character building experience. Or at least a way to bail
on paying Cassie her alimony.
Me-
I suppose writing you with news of good tidings are a little redundant. After all, you always knew how things in our life would turn out
before I did. You even knew I was going to write this letter, but it gives me some comfort to send it to you anyway. Imagine (although
you won’t have to try hard to) my surprise when I ran into Jonathan and Karen in the prison library. Only a classy couple like that would
spend their free time volunteering in a place like this. And it’s because of their help that I was able to earn my teaching certification.
For once in our life, the future seems bright and I don’t feel compelled to ask you for advice. Thanks for being there for me during our
dark times. I’ll see you when I see you...
-Steven, Age 35
Dear Steven,
My name is Jonathan Klein and I’m responding to a letter that you sent a month ago to Steven Smith. It pains me to tell you that he has
passed away. He was stabbed in the prison showers during a dispute with another inmate over a sliver of soap. Steven and I were estranged
friends from childhood, only recently reunited because of the unfortunate circumstances of his incarceration. I’m sure this news will come
as a great shock to you, as it has to me, especially given the fact that Steven was due to be released in less than a month’s time. Again,
I’m sorry. If there is anything I can do for you, don’t hesitate to contact me.
Sincerely,
Jonathan Klein