My contribution to the "Letter to the Stars" blogathon co-hosted by In The Mood, Frankly My Dear and Best of the Past. The rules are simple: "write a gushy fan letter to your favorite [Old Hollywood] star." I chose to write to Jane Greer, the star of the classic film noir thriller, Out of the Past. Nothing in the rules says she can't write back.
When I first saw you walking out of the sunlight into that sleepy little cafe, I could never have guessed that a humble sock monkey and an actress dead for eleven years could do so much more than take in an old movie together. I long for our next encounter.
My dearest Monkey,
I've known socks before—in fact I'm wearing two right now—but never did I know a sock could come stuffed with fluff—and with buttons for eyes! Sorry I let the dog chew on your ear—but then darning you afterwards was half the fun! A brand new ball of yarn awaits your return.
This last weekend was amazing. And no, I didn't mind you sewing a heart and your name on my biceps—your knitting needles pierce my soul. Also my head and much of my torso. Until next time.
Love and kisses,
My dear little fuzzy-wuzzy,
Except for the dinner party with the entomologist, last weekend was the best yet. Who would have guessed that moths and a wool monkey don't go together? Next week—just the two of us, I promise.
Sweet, sweet Jane,
You're right, I probably should I have mentioned your gangster ex-boyfriend threatened to shoot me through the heart if I didn't tell him where to find you. But since technically-speaking I have no heart, I guess it slipped my mind. Meet on the beach again tonight?
My dearest Cuddlemonkey,
Thank you so much for not calling the police—those charges were trumped up, I swear. Can't wait to see you again and rip those little arms right off you all over again! I could just eat you up, my little woolly bully, or maybe wear you with a pair of sneakers. Rowr!
Of course I don't mind about last weekend—how could you have known your parole officer would drop by unannounced? Actually, except for when he tried to wear me like a hat, I thought it went quite well. See you again Friday.
Love forever and always,
My one true love,
You were so forgiving about the gunshot wound, I felt doubly bad about pulling the trigger four times. Okay, I admit I'm a bit of a homicidal maniac, but only before breakfast. Are afternoons good for you?
Love you bunches,
Again, I understand that you felt it necessary to murder my business partner and bury him in the backyard. Think nothing more of it. Oh, by the way, I had $40,000 in my bank account and now seem to have misplaced it. I didn't leave it at your house, did I? I can be so forgetful sometimes.
Gosh, no, I have no idea why the FBI might have been looking for me—you just never know what Uncle Sam is going to get up to. LOL. By the way, I have to make a quick run for the border, but when I get back, we'll get reacquainted all over again—nice and slow.
P.S. If anybody asks, you don't know where I am.
I don't know what that jury was thinking, but I'm sure you'll get the conviction overturned on appeal. Besides, what's twenty years between friends? And we are friends, aren't we. Remind me again about visiting hours?
Counting the minutes (days, years),
This might be the last time you hear from me, at least for a long while. My escape is set for tonight. Thanks so much for the cake and file. I'll write as soon as I'm settled.
Love on the run,
I'm relieved to hear you washed up safely on that beach in South America. I just know you'll be happy now that you're out of the reach of U.S. extradition. Unfortunately, I can't join you there, as tempting as that thought sounds. Not only is the humidity bad for wool, but I've met a nice sweater to settle down with. But I will always remember you fondly.
HMWYBS: "Islands in the Stream"
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