I’m a nice guy. That’s why I only play nice guys or slightly illiterate guys in my movies. I also don’t ask for much.
Seriously though, aside from being served a piping hot breakfast every morning at 8 AM, there are very few official requests I have made in my life. I would, however, like to ask the Baptists to stop mailing me frisbees.
OK, I’ll admit it. The first time I received a pliable, slightly worn throw-disc in my heated mailbox five years ago from a Baptist man, it was a pleasant surprise. I even tossed my glide-plate around the yard for a few minutes. But I had no idea that I’d be receiving between five to thirteen Frisbees in my warm letter cube every morning for the next five years.
It’s just unsustainable.
At first, I stored my plastic pancakes in the garage. Then I started giving them out to friends, neighbors, and every flight attendant I could hunt down. Now, when I receive a floating saucer in my incubated letter-container, I simply toss it into my neighbor’s yard.
I’ve run out of options, and my neighbors are getting visibly agitated. Please, if you are a Baptist man or woman and you’ve been mailing me hand-tossed floating discs, cease and desist.