Hey There, Skipperino!
I know we're not supposed to be even speaking to each other, but I'm in such a good mood right now, I don't care!
Why am I in such a good mood? Awww, shucks, you know the answer, don't you? And you've known it for several hours!
Orson the Cat is safe and sound at home again!
Y'know, Skip, I'm kind of amazed that you can trust women any more, seeing as how so many of them have stabbed you in the back... the last three women having done so for the benefit of Your Humble Silver Fox in rapid succession!
First there was my buddy, Catherine Zeta-Jones -- "Cath" -- who posed as your elderly neighbor, Bambie, and distracted you so you wouldn't know I was
stealing taking back our private jet, the SnL One.
Secondly, there was Paris Hilton, another buddy of mine! When she showed up for the little photo shoot on your Skip's Stuff blog, you never dreamed that she was a plant, did you? (And by "plant," I mean "spy" rather than suggesting that she has the IQ of the average houseplant, or anything like that...)
Paris had told me that Simpson Studio was empty, so I could look for Orson. She was wrong, of course. It wasn't empty. Kato was still there, and Orson wasn't. Apparently, when you and your entourage went out for the evening, Paris counted the members of your little group... and that's when the problem ensued.
But now, last but most deliciously not least, your very own intern, the perky Tara King, has betrayed you! She and I formed an immediate bond during our brief encounter after I'd vandalized your studio, and -- to make a long story short -- she contacted me, agreed to become my intern, grabbed Orson, hijacked a bus, and came to Massachusetts!
As you can see, the three of us are quite happy now.
She's incredibly talented, and I must grudgingly admit that you've taught her well! She rigged up some technological doo-hickey or another, and we've been enjoying a live feed from your security cameras.
Tara King, perky little thing that she is, also doctored the following video of you, Miss St. Pauli Girl (or whatever the hell her name is), and your bodyguard Kato Kaelin (or whatever the hell his name is). She knows I love the old silent films, so...
Isn't she remarkable?
(Speaking of videos, the perky Tara King and I enjoy watching another one she "liberated," one of you and your assistant, Gretchen. Do you know the one I mean? I certainly can't describe it here, but it involves your hot tub and a large jar of Miracle Whip.)
Anyway, Skip, let's face it. I've outfoxed you at every turn. Why don't we quit while I'm ahead, and call off that silly, upcoming wrestling match? (Those guys who run the WTF have some pretty annoying conditions for our using their venue to hash out our differences anyway.)
I'm not suggesting we renew our partnership, nor rekindle our friendship. Those days are gone. But I propose a halt to all open hostilities... mainly so you won't get hurt again. In fact, I have graciously arranged to have the SnL One returned to you! No, really. Let's just call it a peace offering.
Thanks for your time.