An Open Letter to my Friend(s).

To my Good Friend,
           I realize this is an open letter that will reveal some dark, very personal details of our friendship.  Because of this I've chosen to exclude your name.  However, in excluding your name, I realize that many other friends reading this letter may believe it is intended for them - this is planned.  You see, friend, I just don't have the balls to confess this secret to your face; therefore I ask any friend reading this to believe it is directed at you until you believe otherwise.
           We've been friends for a period of time some people would consider long, others would consider short.  But regardless of what others may label our friendship as, I am sure we both know it is a strong bond, one which could withstand the brutal impact of, say, me having sex with  your mother.  Now, before you assume that I had sex with your mother, let me just clarify that I did - it's just a terrible habit to assume, I've been meaning to tell you that it's very ugly.  Please don't stop reading this just yet, it is the only form of confession I will offer and I want you know all the details (and hopefully forget all this ever happened).
           You've never noticed the sexual tension between your mother and I, hell I never noticed either.  But a few weekends ago I was around and you were off doing something related to work, or in the bathroom or something, and I found myself sharing a deep conversation with her.  We got to talking about you - by the way, you should really call your mother more often - and how you've been putting a lot of stress on her with your habits.  While I realize that I happen to indulge in some of these habits with you, my presence as a strong, established, more successful young man than you outweighs this point.  After I came forward about some of the drugs you do and your pre-marital affairs, she was in a raw emotional state; that's where I knew I had to provide comfort.
           I scooted a bit closer and took off my pants, although she was startled at first - she found comfort in seeing that I was fully aroused by her.  And if you asked me any other time, I don't think I could say I was attracted to your mother, but something about seeing her sob about how terrible of a son you are really got me.  When it finally happened, she took to me hungrily, as if all the stress you've put on her drove her into my arms.  And I don't want to blame you, but we'd both be kidding ourselves if we didn't admit that this is all pretty much your fault. 
          I was merely a pawn in this game between you and your mother, I've been used as an escape from the bigger picture - you two have a lot of sorting out to do.  I can only provide so much support for the both of you - seriously, she's like a rabbit - and it's not healthy to ignore this looming problem in your life.  Think of my penis as a bridge between you and your mother, one that you both need to meet halfway on - yeah...  Meet halfway on my meat.  Let's make that the motto for then next few, healing weeks, shall we?  Ah, I'm glad I got this off my chest.  It's been therapeutic. 


Sincerely, Moose.