Dear Julius:
I have a good time remembering you. No, I do not mean that I owe money, nor am I putting the family in all this. I could tell that shocked me deeply that you answered my last letter. I hope you do not try to use the old excuse that has been twenty years dead, we both know that among theater artists such things are beyond the stage ... as the pretty girls, unfortunately. I said, before losing the thread, I am terribly angry because of your silence. My last letter was terribly good, several pages of pure comedy and old-style poetry. I wish I had come to send. But that is no excuse for not answering.
scenarios have changed since you withdrew. For example, in the Gran Via in my town are still the boys of "Mamma Mia!". I can tell you with my head held high that the first day I was already in line to be the first to not go to see them. The protagonist is a mixture between your brother Harpo (in tan), a raven contained in a pressure cooker and an angry farmer in Kansas. As I have understood (and heard) would have been much better for all that had followed the sage advice of your brother Harpo and had not opened his mouth ever. Or better yet, who had followed the sage advice of your brother Zeppo and had retired for good after the second session.
Basically, we both seem much, Julius. I mean, we're both brown and wears glasses. It almost makes us brothers. And being brothers is the first step to let us speak for life, so you'd better peel off that stupid idea of \u200b\u200bthe head. What we can not avoid is to have one thing in common (as far as we differ from any marriage), and it is our irresistible passion for the female gender. Or at the theater well done. Or by the female gender in the theater well done, but after all, who cares about the theater when the chorus teach your legs? Perhaps Shakespeare, of course, and because it sells very bad lately and I was told that his next work will not be as good.
Now you locked in a room, you sit for two hours in front of a naked guy giving head against the wall and shouting horrible things about his mother and call it "avant-garde theater." If he had been a naked woman, I myself have offered to give me head against the wall. The theater is not what it was. The theater today is not like before. They reformed last month, boxes included.
Anyway, old Julius, I do not want to take more time. Prefer to take more money.
I love you, old scoundrel, wherever you are: Aaron Rodriguez
PS: I await your response within a reasonable time. I wish you could come see the works that I'm riding this year. The works are not much, but the girls are fine. Marilyn Dale memories for me.
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