Dear The Fine Folks of The State of Wyoming,

I was recently driving through your lovely state and was simply dumbstruck by the natural wonders and awe- inspiring landscapes encased within your borders. Time just seems to stop when in Wyoming and I felt like a child with Downs Syndrome visiting Coney Island for the first time. Unfortunately, as I lost track of time I also lost track of my speed and before you know it I was seeing flashing lights in my rear window. At first I had to assume it was aliens, being that I hadn’t seen many car models in your state later than rusted-out 70’s muscle cars and the occasional backfiring Dodge Omni but I eventually realized it was an actual officer of the law and I yielded.

Having lived in Los Angeles for the last several years, I just assumed I would be taken torn from my automobile and flogged within a hair of my very existence and I prepared for the beating. Imagine my surprise when your very handsome officer asked me how I was doing and flashed a smile that revealed what may have been teeth! It was like being in another era altogether! He informed me that I had been travelling at a rate of 86 miles per hour in a 75 mile per hour zone. I gave him my license and registration and was again amazed as he sounded out all the words on the paperwork with his mouth, only getting stuck on the ones with multiple syllables or silent letters. He retreated to his car walking upright and returned moments later with a pink ticket and a remorseful expression, explaining that he had no choice but to cite me. He seemed like a sad monkey but cheered a bit when he added that he was able to take ten dollars off the cost due to me wearing a seat belt. I could have kissed him and may have, save for my fear of being taken out to one of your famous deserted fenceposts and pistol-whipped. I thanked him and he bid me farewell with a long look like a boy seeing his abusive alcoholic father being taken off to a state facility against his will, a sense of shame and justice all in one.

It wasn’t until later when I pulled into a Kum & Go in Evanston to evacuate my sniffling bowels that I realized the horrible breach of justice that had occurred. I noticed my watch and realized that I had only completed 51 miles of my trip in the previous hour.

Prior to my being stopped by your beautiful keeper of the peace, I had spent time in the far toilet at a rest area with a smooth young vagrant/rough-houser named Jorge who had showed my what its like to be a man through two vicious sessions of oral indiscretions. Between the face-rape and the traffic stop, I had come nowhere near travelling 86 miles in an hour! How could I possibly be cited for going 86 miles in that time period? I was tempted to go back and try an find him to explain basic math to him but I must have got a bad corn tortilla somewhere on the trip and my ass was spitting fire-water and Death’s oatmeal so I decided to try and make it to Salt Lake as soon as possible.

I am sure you people can see the error this sweet but feeble and, in all probabilty, horribly inbred man has made and make it right. I have enclosed a check to show good faith in the meantime, including the extra ten dollars he had told me he’d forgiven as I had to later take off my seatbelt so I wouldn’t mud-wash my jockey-boxers.

Please get back with me as soon as time permits.


Douglas Stanhope