The cure
Eye contact, smile, Titanic, flowers & perfume
would do it
June 30, 3003
The Iranian
Hi. My name is Sam. I am a mechanic. I have been bedridden for
days now. I can't walk, talk, or do anything else. All I
can do is write. I will give this letter to someone who will mail
it to you. Please don't stop reading because you're
my only hope.
This all started 2 years ago. I was a happy and wealthy man back
then. I owned several repair shops. I knew how to fix any kind
of car. I knew every car inside out. I spent many nights under
cars. I even preferred the smell of grease to flowers. I ate and
slept with the cars in the shop. The sun was surely a stranger
to me.
One day, out of nowhere, a customer told me, "do you have
a girl?" I said, "no!" "How do you live
without a girl? Who do you go home to? How could you live without
a girl?" the customer added. I told her that I had never
thought about that and I don't care and just leave me alone.
The woman left and I got back to work.
The winter that year was a harsh one, and I came down with the
flu several times. I never recovered completely from the last one.
I saw many doctors, each prescribing something different but nothing
worked. My body was aching so bad I started skipping work, the
work that I loved so much. I had to stay home which made things
worse.
The last doctor I saw told me that my problem was
not physical. She said I needed someone in my life. She said that
I needed a
girl. I said that's non-sense. That's bull, I said.
The doctor said my only chance of recovery is getting a kiss
from a girl. Despite ignoring her suggestion for weeks, I felt
obligated
to try her suggestion due to my deteriorating condition.
The problem, however, was that I didn't know how to kiss
a girl. A bigger problem was that I didn't have a girl. A
bigger problem still, was that I didn't know how to befriend
a girl. The doctor prescribed me a day at the beach, watching
Titanic at a theatre, a smile, eye contact, flowers, and some
perfume to
mask the smell of grease.
The next day, after finishing work,
I splashed some perfume on my blue work overalls, got some
flowers, and went to watch Titanic. I tried to ask some girls to
kiss
me
but security threw me out for talking too much and too loud.
He hit me on the head with my bouquet of flowers. He had a
chubby face. He told me never to come back to that theatre. I pinched
his thigh.
"Here are the flowers so kiss me," I told the first girl I
saw at the beach. She said "what?" and drew her eyebrows
together. I said proudly, "I have seen the Titanic." She
kicked me in my bolts. I had to sit down.
The next day I saw a girl standing next to a garbage can. I
stretched my lips into the form of a smile, made eye contact,
and said:
"would you please kiss me, I'm sick." I then pushed my lips
together,
forming a circle, and waited for my kiss. "You certainly
ARE sick," she said. "Thank you for understanding," I
said politely, and bowed to show that I was polite.
She smiled at me. Her boyfriend didn't. He threw me into the
garbage can. I think somebody had thrown
up in there. There were also lots of needles. They
were
sharp
too.
The next day I went to see Titanic again. "Jack... Jack..."
the girl in the movie was saying. I walked to the front of
the theater
and faced the audience. "Would someone please kiss me," I
yelled at the top of my lungs. Suddenly I saw drinks and popcorns
coming at my face at the speed of light. Fortunately I was
able to grab some of the popcorn and eat it. The popcorn was
cold
but it didn't taste half-bad. People were screaming at me.
Three months ago I went to see the Titanic, for the 27th time.
I put on more perfume this time. Maybe this will do the trick,
I thought. Unfortunately people got up and left the seats wherever
I went. I was frustrated. I slowly crept up behind a girl,
turned her head around, and kissed her. I realized that I had
her nose
in my mouth. I also realized that her face felt rough. I let
go of her nose. She turned out to be a he. I apologized. He
winked at me. The next day I became more sick.
Two months ago, the last time that I went out, I spent the
day at the beach. A girl there told me she would kiss me
for the
right price. I didn't mind it. I shook her hand. In a motel
room she asked me to take off my blue overalls and everything
else I was wearing. I didn't understand how taking my
clothes off would help her in kissing me, but I didn't complain.
She then handcuffed me to the bedpost and took off with my wallet
-- and clothes. To that I complained.
She did not return. It
took me two hours to break the bedpost and set myself free. As
I
left the motel, naked as the day I was born, I saw some
police cars.
The girl who had taken my wallet and clothes was there
too. When she saw me, she screamed, "He's my pimp!"
"What's a pimp?" I asked politely, smiling and making eye
contact. A man suddenly started running towards me. Later
on I realized that he was her father. The police cars and
her
father chased me around the place for an hour but finally
caught me,
beside
the beach.
"All I wanted was an innocent kiss," I repeatedly
told her father as he gave me a good beating. He finally
grabbed my head and kissed me hard on my mouth. "That's
the kiss of death," he said. His kiss tasted like the
skin of
a puppet, right when it's born. "But you are not a
girl," I said, trying to correct his misunderstanding.
He threw me in the water.
Fortunately, the police cars
soon
arrived
and I was rescued. They beat me some more. In the
jail, the policemen gave me water to drink. They finally
allowed me
to go home. I
bowed to them to express my gratitude. One of them
kicked me in the ass.
Since that time, I have become bedridden. The doctor,
she now says that it is because of all the beatings
that I
have received,
that
I have become bedridden. But I know it's because
no one has kissed me yet. So, if you are reading this
letter
now, please
come to my house and kiss me. I live in New York,
in a repair shop.
I really need you. I will even take a bath and shave,
if you come. Please, you are my last hope. * Send
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