Notecard Collection: Three

“Dear Johnson, do you mind that I call you by your last name? I have nothing against your first. It’s just that your face isn’t made for a first name. You’ve seen it in the mirror, I know. Those eyes are so closely set and that nose so cramped for space that it seems to me it will fall off if you ever cross your eyes. Don’t try it! I like you much too much to see you go through the rest of your life without your nose. And you need your nose now, in these days, what with a wrapper or a box over everything. How wonderful to crash into the odor of freedom every time you liberate a twinkie! But back to your last name. Would you mind terribly if I tried to forget your first name altogether? I don’t know if it’s possible since we’ve known each other now for nearly half a year, but I’ve always wanted to give my memory that ultimate test—a purposeful forgetting, a planned erasure—and I’d like to know a person who only has one name, even if officially you have two. Johnson Johnson Johnson. Repetition is the mother of memory, Johnson. Oksana says that’s a Russian idiom. You can call her Ksusha after I’ve introduced you formerly. Until then, Johnson, don’t cross your eyes!”