A Request to JK
Rowling
by Bob Iozzia
Dear Mr.
Rowling,
How’s it
going?
I never heard
of you or read any of your books, but I hear you’re
pretty famous and your books are fairly popular.
So I think you’re just the person to ask
this favor: Whenever you have some spare time in
the next day or so, please take a look at the 900-page
fiction novel I just finished (I think). It’s
attached to an email I just sent to you—thank
goodness for the interweb, right? And no worries
about computer viruses; I’ve been guaranteed
by the Bezopasnyy Anti-Virus Collective that all
the worms (whatever that means) and other
problems have been removed from my laptop
computer machine and a special program has been
permanently installed for future protection. Whew,
uh?
Anyway, my
book is called Harvey Parker and the Half-Baked
Idea. It’s about a basketball player
for the Washington Wizards, an American
professional basketball team in an American
national basketball association called the NBA (Sorry,
but I don’t know what NBA stands
for. LOL.), who can’t find a good solution
to removing or hiding a forehead birthmark in the
shape of Florida, a backwards state in the USA.
Since he’s the shortest member of the team
that has a very cramped locker room, he is
assigned a space in the jock storage area under a
staircase.
Please send it
to your publisher after you’ve made any
necessary corrections. (Warning: I don’t
seem to know my emdash from my elbow or a serial
comma from a cereal coma. [Also, I’ve been
told that I use too many parentheses (whatever
they are)]). Oh, and please improve my ending
with a real punchy one that will make hardasses
cry, crybabies laugh and evangelicals blurt,
“Jesusfuckingchrist, I never saw that coming.”
Thanks and
please let me know if you don’t receive my
email and/or this letter.
Sincerely very
truly yours truly, Bob Iozzia
PS: You
will probably want to follow me on anti-social
media, but I’m only active on Twister (or
whatever that site is with a silly blue bird logo).
I’m sort of on Instant Gram, but am not on
it too much because I have no interest anymore in
hooking up with grandmothers, instant or
otherwise. I refuse to join Facebook because I
heard its officers and other muckety-mucks are
Martians who zap its members with an invisible
lightning ray that makes them eat babies (no
offense to you if you eat babies).
PPS: In
the interest of full disclosure, I’m an
American, but my ancestors had nothing to do with
the Revolution, just as your people probably had
no part in the War of 1812. If they did, I guess
you owe me another favor and an apology.
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