"A Sad Confession" in the words of Burchfield

I am going in a different direction this week. I think I will start to tell old stories from college or right out of college. This week is an actual email sent from my good buddy Jeremy Burchfield after a crazy night out at the infamous "Dock". I hope y'all enjoy.

I wish all of you the best of luck tonight as you enjoy poker festivities. Unfortunately, I will not be present due to a commitment from which I cannot pull myself away. Contrary to popular belief, said commitment has nothing to do with answering charges of supposed "child endangerment." A number of confessions must abound:

I did in fact rest comfortably in a bed with a mother and her child... nothing more, nothing less. I must also admit that a guilty conscience did dwell inside of me when I awoke from my slumber to find the little child staring at her birthgiver and me as she sang along with Spongebob and Mr. Squid on the television set. Attempts to interact with the child were futile, due to the fact that for most of the morning she was engrossed with the idea of "fishing" for Mr. Bigglesworth with her gymnastics baton, all the while crawling over her mother and I. At that point, I knew that I had to take action , so I removed myself from the mother's embrace and began to dress myself amidst a flurry of activity which included but was not limited to the following: an english bulldog pawing at my thighs, an ebony-hued pug getting a whiff of my cigarette odored britches, a persian short-haired hypo-allergetic cat bearing an eerie likeness to one Mr. Bigglesworth, a homosexual male awaking from his slumber on the barcalounger, and his mother taking requests from the breakfast menu. Needless to say, only seconds passed before I was in my partner's auto waiting as escort back to my truck. It wasn't long before securing her daughter in the back seat while the sweet child ingested her morning breakfast comprised of bacon strips and sour spees. The transport to the reservoir area was far from pleasant, as a massive hangover was the main cause of my distress, not to mention the mother firing up an ultra-light and exhaling in my face. I was never more happy to see Kalahar's driveway and my foot was out the door before the auto came to a complete stop. However, my timely escape was foiled when a pen and paper combination was put to use as the girl inked her cell number and graciously donated it to my shirt pocket. A quick embrace ensued and I was finally free from the grasps of her seatbelt as I exited the vehicle with quick pace. A quick wave goodbye ended the twelve-hour fling, and I was free.

Again, I hope all of you enjoy yourselves this evening. You can count on me being present next week. Please keep me in your thoughts during my absence since I have recently been given new information regarding this dock-rocking temptress that I spent time with over the weekend.....................SHE'S A FREAKIN' STALKER!!!!!!!!!!

Jeremy