Dear Jesse

I am writing on behalf of myself to express my deep sorrow regarding your recent course of action. I was first made aware of my present concerns when you feebly beckoned Sam to get off at the next exit, though such a maneuver was inconsistent with our intended destination. As soon as the car came to a stop, as you may well recall, you left the passenger seat in favor of the foliage near the off ramp and proceeded to vomit presumably all of the iced coffee, tortilla chips and sunflower seeds you had consumed during our outing thus far. This was, I trust you can imagine, an extremely uncomfortable experience.

Had you instead remained in the car for the duration of the trip, and chosen to go to the supermarket with us instead of getting dropped off at the apartment, and chosen to help us fix dinner instead of locking us out and falling into a deep sleep, then perhaps things would have turned out differently. Perhaps you would have enjoyed several helpings of spaghetti with homemade sauce and garlic bread. Perhaps you would have had a beer and washed it down with another beer. Perhaps you would have taken some initiative with the salad, so it could have been something more than a bowl of chopped Romaine. However, your decision to continue slinking about the living room and to on occasion get down on the ground and roll under the coffee table and hold your head demonstrates your blatant disregard not only for dinner, but for the institution of vacation itself. It is disrespectful of our plans for tomorrow, and it is disrespectful of my plans to thoroughly digest my own dinner and my as yet uneaten breakfast.

So I beg you, if you find left in yourself any shred of decency, any kernel of concern for your fellow man, any piece of corn or chunk of carrot for our tickets to the Giants game tomorrow, I beg you, get well soon.