Correspondence... Isn't it Lovely?

Here is the letter that I wrote to my friend Andrew (don't be confused, his name is Max too) as he left for Montreal yesterday to work on a film and I won't be seeing him for over a year. We have commenced emailing.

Max,

I'd assume that you arrived safely in Canada, but you know what happens when you assume.

You look dumb. 

So, I'm not assuming, I'm figuring you've arrive in Canada. I think figuring is okay to do. It's logical. It's strategic. It involves educated hypotheses rather than random guessing. 

My hypothesis is this, step 1, you texted me when you were in D.C. on your layover, or wherever it was that you had a layover, so flight one was successful. Step 2, you have not texted me since, which means that you're in a foreign country and you cannot, or Option B of Step 2, you're plane crashed on its way to the aforesaid foreign country and you are in heaven, in which case you could not send a text but it doesn't matter because, shoot, you're in heaven, or Option C of Step 2, your plane was hijacked midair by the undercover body guards of Zac Efron who is selling humans on the black market to pay for his expensive drub habit, to which he plummeted into after realizing that his girlfriend was soon to be stolen by some assistant director on her new movie, so, after hijacking enough planes and enough humans, he decided to sell this assistant director and eliminate the possibility of Vanessa Hudgens leaving him and the drug habit that was getting harder to coverup. In case of Option B I will cry at your funeral. In case of Option C, I will punch Zac Efron in the face. As Option B holds the stipulation that if you had in fact died, I would've, in some way, been notified, either by telephone, or by the Max-shaped absence in the universe, and as Option C is probably true but can hardly be proved as Efron refuses to offer a comment to this educated figuring investigation, I can intelligently proceed to Step 3, you made it safely to Canada. 

End proof.

Mindy

-----------------------------

Here is the letter I got in response. Again, for limited confusion, I am HeatherLo -- it's short for Lola.

Well HeatherLo,

       What if I was to tell you that all three options you posed were correct.  It started off with Option B coming true when a space skydiver (exactly what it sounds like) clipped the windshield of the cockpit.  Now you may think that was what caused the crash but it was only the first step.  The space skydiver cracked the windshield which eventually broke completely, causing a pressure imbalance that sucked everything out of the cockpit.  The pilots were strapped in so they were safe but the head pilot's drug stash (he was a mule for Zac Efron) got sucked out and he unstrapped himself and jumped after it.  The co-pilot, who was in love with the pilot jumped after him, figuring their love would save them...it didn't.  I epiclly rushed into the cockpit and grabbed the stick to save the day and we promptly crashed in under 4 seconds.

     So there I am in Heaven, partying (what else did you expect) and I meet this absolutely amazing guy.  Fun, smart, snazzy dresser; and we are having a good time and I ask his name...Zac Efron he said.  My jaw hit the floor. 2 things to mention here, 1, in Heaven you have such control of your body that when i say my jaw hit the floor, it actually streched and hit the floor and 2. the floor being made of solid Gold hurt like a bitch.  Anyway, I tell him I know who Zac efron is and he isn't him and he said that he WAS Zac Efron and that the guy I I know killed my friend Zac to assume his identity to keep up his drug habit.
   
    So I did what anybody else would do, I talked God into sending me back to Earth with super powers to hunt down this "Zac Efron" and to serve him with heavenly justice...the deadly kind.  I found him quickly with my new powers here in Montreal and with one punch I sent his face back to the stone age.  Literally.  That is one of my new powers.  So now I am just here in Montreal and figure heaven is the best but that party is never going to end so I will take my time here on earth and spend it with some good friends.

    But I am very glad to hear that you would 1. cry at my funeral, and 2. punch Efron in the face.

Andrew

-----------------------------

And that, my dear students, is a lesson in wit.