The letter, most often read in the kitchen, is archived along with six sleeves of cheesecloth shaped into effigies of the EI: three are Collision/Stolichnaya/Sayonara (only one of whom looks black), followed by Trelawney, Brofather Flynn "Potatoes" O-Brien, and one unsigned. This letter is usually cataloged under "Privates" or "Puppets" or "Pocket-sized poems," but has been misplaced under "Passions" for many many reasons.
Postcard: damask tablecloth
[Space, August 1933]
My beloved Mutt,
We all arrive safely by dream. This morning we took our podiums to a point on the map that faces Earth, and declared things. I wore a scrap of damask tablecloth, a flask inscribed TT, and a diabolical grin which would recall, I believe, the grins of 1924 and 1925, when we were continuously milky, and often in front of that fireplace less than civilized. It did not take long for Stolichnaya and Trelawney to catch wind, and mistake us for party members, and bring us onto the deck where we danced and replicated animal delight. In our guest quarters we were given seven squares of cheesecloth to “study” for tomorrow’s activism. I enclose six here for the archive, all but one, which I retain in my privates for housekeeping. I have replaced the contents of every EI flask with milk, and hope to report new mustaches soon.
All my stiff love,