Dear Pookie,
I am in a sorry state. My heart is well and truly broken in two, like a biscuit in the hands of some careless soap opera enthusiast. I won't divulge the full details, nor will I bore you with an extensive narrative, but here's the gist: I bumped into Zooey Deschanel in my local Borders bookshop. After a heated discussion over whether or not bare feet should be a social faux pas, we were married, right in the middle of the shop.
Well, I awoke in despair. My sheets were all tangled about and I could hear 'Neighbours' blaring in the living room next door. It was but a dream! Oh, such cruel tricks the mind plays on a boy's heart. It pains me to live in this reality, where I sleep alone without Zooey in my arms- without Zooey to bake me cookies when I'm cold- without Zooey to just
be there.
What am I to do, Pookie? Should I fly to Pacific Palisades and seek out Zooey in person, declare my love, and propose marriage?
Yours truly,
Daniel 'Himself' Fitzgerald
P.S
This is the young lady in question;
