Dear Rando Drunk Dude

Dear Rando Drunk Dude,
I feel like we need to clear some things up.
I am not your love. Not really sure where you got that idea, but I’m not.
Moving on. I did not, as you claim, “find you.”
I was on a run. You got in my way.
And before I knew it, you were hugging me. Now, since you’re a complete stranger, I don’t expect you to know this about me, but I’m not much of a hugger.
Maybe, just maybe, when I’m drunk, but even then, it’s a gamble.
But that’s the thing, I wasn’t drunk. You were, but I wasn’t.
How do I know you were drunk? Well, the super classy brown paper bag you were swigging from was my first clue, but the smell of your breath as you hugged me sealed the deal.
All I gotta say is, Four Loko, dude? Really?
If you’re gonna get trashed and stumble down Santa Monica at least get a real beer.
Oh, and if you happen to run into me again and hug me one more time?
I’m taking one of your testes. Right or left, that’s your choice.
Sincerely,
Calhoun

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