I still love you, Latex. I always will.
Dear Latex,
What the hell? All over the world you’re delighting children with your colorful balloons and preventing children with your colorful condoms. But apparently six years ago I did something to really piss you off, because rather than allowing me to attend children’s parties and have insane amounts of promiscuous sex (those two activities would have been exclusive of each other… I think…), I have to run like a pansy every time someone loads up a rubber band gun.
Okay, I get it. I shouldn’t have blown up that one condom into a balloon on the school bus in 5th grade. That was inappropriate and I disrespected your intentions. But anaphylactic shock? I think that’s going a little overboard, don’t you? You have no idea how awkward it is walking into my local heroin den and asking if they have polyurethane tourniquets. I’m about to lose my frequent flier card!
Look, we both have our faults. I use the f-word sometimes, and you fucking break during sex sometimes. But I’m not out there trying to wipe you off the face of the Earth. Can we maybe at least talk about things? Polyurethane is expensive, and I still don’t trust the tests on its effectiveness. Neither do my eight illegitimate children.
Anyway, you know I can never stay mad at you for too long. I’m willing to give it another shot if you are. You know where to find me. I just hope you can find it in your heart to put our past differences aside so we can maybe start over.
Missing you,
Kyle
