Letters to Morla: We Don’t Have Balls

It’s a good thing. Balls are sensitive. You give it a little flick and they yell “MAN DOWN! MAN DOOOOOOOWN!”

ImageWell said, oh great Betty White!

Anyway, like my last letter to Donnabelle, things worked out. I’m actually back in my office. I am typing up this blog on my office computer. Productive little slave, aren’t I?

Once my papers pull through, things will be pretty stable. The kind of security I’m worried about is the one where the police catch you and deport you and ban you for the next decade.

I have this paper with me where it says I’m approved for transfer. Though it is approved, it hasn’t been finalized. But my boss says this document is enough to keep me safe from the inspection. She told me, she already clarified the security thing with the upper management and that I should have faith in her (though she did say it in a more sarcastic manner). So, here I am… hoping for the best.

Anyway, are things still unstable where you’re at? I hope your situation improves.

I miss you. All of you.


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