Dear Famous Author,

I recently (well not that recently) read your short work entitled “E**‘ S****” which was appended to your longer piece “S******** L******.” It may have been entirely coincidental, but it seemed to me that it was largely about myself and my ex-girlfriend Ella D***, a suspicion enhanced by the similarity with your beautifully artistic rendition of Ella in an illustration in the book. Please don’t panic: I am not writing to sue or seek monetary recompense. However, I do feel that the short story fails to do either my ex-girlfriend or myself justice, and I thought I would send you this letter to clarify a few things.

David

***

Thank you for your fan letter, but the fact that the girl you loved had the name and something of the character of Ella in my story—or chapter—A P****** o* a F*** M** is sheer coincidence. If you are going to sue, then at least get the name of the piece correct.

Allister X

***

Firstly, I must say neither your fine sketching with words nor drawn image captured Ella’s intense allure and attractiveness. I admit that my impression of the young lady is tinted by love. But more than this, I grew up with Ella and watched her blossom into womanhood. She was not the girl next door, but she was the girl down the street, and from the age of twelve, I was filled with a desire for her that perhaps even now is not extinguished. We went to the same school, but while she was streamed into the top class with the promise of future greatness, I was selected only for mediocrity. I feel I have certainly lived up to the hopes my school and teachers had for me. Also, like yourself I believe, I had the misfortune to require spectacles from an early age. Hence my nicknames were “Specky,” “Brains,” and “Joe 90,” pigeonholes I have never quite managed to escape from. So you see, not only was Ella beautiful, she was also intelligent, popular, and a bit posh. All in all, far too good for a middling, specky boy that no one seemed to like. Imagine my delight then when even at the early age of twelve, this young vision of loveliness would spend time talking to me on the school bus or nod in my direction when she walked past. Beautiful, unattainable. and yet still approachable; the perfect combination to torture any young man.

David

***

Get to the point. No one cares about how miserable your childhood was. Boo-hoo, sucks to be you. And don’t presume to project your sad existence onto me. I may have had glasses as a boy, but I had a very active sex life. Girls found that my wit, charm, and intelligence more than compensated for any defects in my appearance, not that there were any.

Allister X

***

I suppose I now need to correct another misconception that you have included in your writing: she was not, in fact, my girlfriend. Just to write this is to once again feel the heartbreak of being gently and kindly rejected. As we grew older, we often accompanied each other to parties and dropped in on each others’ houses and later to each other’s dingy bedsits in the west end of G*****. Oh yes, we kissed: kissed often, in fact, and often passionately. Each kiss was precious, and I treasured and preserved each one, like a pressed flower wrapped in toilet paper and flattened between the pages of a book which I come across when looking up some quote or reference in my little library. But that was all. We were never official or going out or serious. I never witnessed the unveiled glory of Ella’s femininity, or the joys of deepest intimacy, or—as I had foolishly hoped—the support and strength of togetherness, at least not with Ella. In your story, you described her as being “willing.” To be fair, you described her as being “surprisingly willing,” and it certainly would have been a surprise to me if she had been. A very pleasant surprise it would have been.

David

***

You pathetic little man. Woman are no different than men. They have appetites and needs just the same and need “attention.” If you were too feeble to act like a man, then that is your problem, not hers and certainly not mine. I may be unspeakably ugly, but since finding fame and fortune, I have never had any problem finding a woman willing to engage in certain acts for the right price.

Allister X

***

Now I realise that Ella did have a boyfriend with whom I suppose she did share those things she denied me. And that it is possible that in your story, you conflated myself and Mike for dramatic effect. Indeed, you might wonder why, if I was never her boyfriend, I should imagine that I appear in this tale at all. Well, for several reasons. Firstly, although we were never a couple as such, many people—including perhaps yourself—mistook us for one. This was quite useful if, for example, you had attracted the attention of some young lady for whom you had no affection. You could introduce her to Ella and without saying anything, Ella’s teasing, flirting, and—yes—jealous, bitchy spite would soon convince the young lady to “back off, this one is taken.” Even if I was not taken, even if I wished I had been.

David

***

Exactly: she wasn’t your girlfriend, so I can write what I like about her. Mike was a drip, too. He wasn’t man enough for her. And by the way, I only slept with her on two occasions; a two-day wriggler, you might call her.

Allister X

***

Also, the conversation in the pub was almost word-for-word a transcript of a conversation that I had with her in a pub.

David

***

It’s called found text, and it’s perfectly legal. I got Ella to recount it for me. So I have her permission to write it. You can’t sue me, you can’t prove it without her testimony, and she moved to Australia.

Allister X

***

The reason I emphasise Ella’s attractiveness is that you cannot fully understand the exchange regarding the purchase of Drambuie without acknowledging the fact that most men would be delighted to be permitted to purchase her a drink. Buying a drink for a woman is a very important part of the mating ritual. Buying a woman a drink puts that woman even just a little in your debt. It also has the added bonus of diminishing the woman’s good sense and judgement; this is very important in mating. Although I believe my current partner was ensnared without recourse to alcohol, I will admit that she too did display a lapse in both sense and judgement when hitching her wagon to mine, a lapse that I am eternally grateful for.

David

***

This is why you’re a lonely, sad, middle-aged man. Buying a drink is nothing. I don’t believe for a moment you’re married or that you have a girlfriend other than in your sad imagination.

Allister X

***

Allowing a man to buy a drink is something that a woman needs to think long and hard about. Now, you must not think ill of Ella, but it was her habit to respond to a request by gentlemen to supply her with alcohol by requesting the most expensive drink she could think off. This had two benefits for her; it generally discouraged gentlemen from offering to buy her another, and if the gentleman should offer to be purchase more, then that indicated that he at least was likely to be a good provider. Drambuie was Ella’s usual request when offered alcohol. It was expensive, expensive enough to cause plenty of gentlemen to retract their offer, curse and retreat. It also had the added advantage of being almost undrinkable. Not drinking meant Ella would keep her wits about her and enabled her to avoid many hairy escapades. By choice, Ella was a beer drinker and was very fond of Guinness.

David

***

What are you suggesting? She came willing enough to the apartment. If she had asked for a Guinness, then I would have got her one. The bitch stole a valuable painting when she snuck off later that night. I told the police, but they refused to press charges and interviewed me about a sexual assault. F*** me too and all that sail in her. Besides, it was the eighties, things were different then.

Allister X

***

So when I offered to buy Ella a Drambuie, it was a symbol of asking for and hoping that instead of just being friends that I was willing to measure up to her ideal as mate, that if it meant I had to buy her the most expensive drink she could think of to be with her, then I was willing to do it. An offer she rejected.

David

***

No wonder, you sad excuse for a man. Why would she be interested in you? Don’t think I don’t remember you. You were pathetic.

Allister X

***

You see, something had changed in my life. And that thing was contact lenses. No longer was I “Specky”: now I was moderately attractive. And if Ella remained immune to my meagre charm, then other ladies were not. Was I supposed to spend the whole of my life pining for my one true love, or was love out there and all I had to do was go and get it? Rightly or wrongly, I stopped sitting in my flat listening to Nina Simone and hoping that Ella would drop by for coffee, a chat and a few guilty kisses. I got a life. And Ella did not like it. Indeed, the long boring trip up north past ugly heaps of rock was not a sales trip. It was a road trip, with a girl. And Ella’s bored disinterest in my clumsy attempts to describe heaps of stone in a poetic manner was only partly due to my lack of poetry. She was annoyed, or so I flatter myself to believe. For over ten years now, I had been her lap dog, her safety guy, her casual, harmless, non-threatening male friend. I was not going to be that any longer. Like I said, she had a boyfriend named Mike, but I doubt she loved him anymore then she loved me. Indeed, her behaviour towards me when Mike was around was always much “warmer” then when he was not. In fact, it was a bit embarrassing. I would have been quite willing to cheat on Mike behind his back or to replace him as her official boyfriend and lover, but not in front of him: show some decency.

David

***

Yeah, you thought because you were younger and better-looking you could steal her from me. You should have just got out the way. And seriously, you looked like James Dean, and you were still a virgin at twenty. Well, we did it, the beast with two backs—or in this case one back and two stomachs—that very night when she left the pub with me instead of you. She was tired of your stupid games. What did you want from her; did you want her to beg for it? Mike was nothing to her.

Allister X

***

So anyway, we did not fight or scream or write letters or anything like that. I stopped dropping by her flat, and she stopped dropping by mine. I met a lovely girl, a really lovely girl. I got married. I invited Ella to the wedding. She never came. I neither know nor care why. I never saw Ella again. I doubt I would recognise her if I saw her. Friends tell me she moved to Australia. I certainly did not have one final fling with her as described in your story, but then again, maybe that was Mike you were writing about.

David

***

Sure, you lying piece of shit. Mike told me all about it. He knew all about it and about the baby. He said he don’t mind. He’d do anything to keep her. It had nothing to do with me by that time. I tried phoning her, but she wouldn’t pick up. You just dropped her when it suited you. I bet you’re still cheating around. No wonder she hated you. “I can’t run the risk of seeing him anymore,” she told me when she left.

Allister X

***

Thank you for your attention. I doubt you will rework a fairly minor piece in your canon just in response to my comments, but I hope that I have managed to alter your perception of me as a callous and thoughtless lover just a little.

David

***

Minor piece? You patronising bastard. I was nominated for a prize for that piece and what have you ever done? Nothing. That’s right, Mr. Bigshot with your fancy car and house. You think you’re clever because you’re running daddy’s business. Everything just fell into place for you. Well, I worked for everything I’ve got. I earned the hard way; through graft and learning the craft word by word. You certainly have changed what I think of you. Piss off, you w*****.

Allister X

***

Yours Faithfully

David R**

***

Just f*** off already.

***

THE END

***

THE END