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Dear Chris, A Story of Bromance By Scotty Mac

November 17, 2011

Dear Chris,

 

I had the strangest premonition yester morn. It came to me from the deepest depths of a dream. In this aspiration, I was walking. I was walking for some time when I came to a beautiful glen. This glen, I tell you, was unlike any glen you have ever seen. The grass gleamed with the most glorious green. The harsh horizon lanced in half the pellucid sky. The hills, like lasagna, rolled over the acreage.  Frolicking ore the fluffy moss covered mounds was a man. This man was cut from the cover of a romance novel. His bulging chest protruded from his unfastened oxford. His chin, so sharp it could carve stone. Dark olive skin sheltered a secure musculature. His shadowy hair draped his almond eyes. His musk, so pungent it seemed to reach out across the pasture and punch me in the face.

Alas! I awoke before I could truly make out the identity of my enigmatic man! Saddened by the knowledge that I might not find this beautiful bloke, I readied myself for a run. As I pulled into the parking lot to meet some friends for a jaunt, I saw a familiar figment from my fantasy. But fiction it wasn’t, because as I approached you, you were tangible! You were standing there, a refugee from my reverie! The man of my dreams!

 

Welcome home Chris!

 

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