An Apology

Dear Mas,

I’m sorry that I couldn’t make it out to dine with you tonight. You seem like a lovely and delicious little place and I know I must have let you down. I’m sorry that I’m an idiot and crashed my car into a median divider on the parkway last night and now can’t afford/get to the train station (or anywhere else for that matter) to sample your plentiful bounty.

I’m especially sorry since the people I was supposed to go with have connections with the kitchen and we were going to get styled out. You know how much I love meals that start with the directions to “bring a six-pack for the guys in the kitchen” and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me soon.

Since I can no longer afford you—or any other restaurant—due to auto body expenses, I will be spreading the word that I am willing to prepare, cook and do the dishes at anyone’s house if they are willing to let me partake in the meal. My only requirement is that I must be able to ride my bike there.

Mas, I hope to see you very soon.

Tearfully,

Justin