Dear Heretic,
i don't know about you, but i sure could use a drink. This fine weather leaves me parched - some laborious fatigue i tell you. Yesterday an elderly woman, quite homely and unkempt, clasped my arm as i passed through the town centre. i had envisaged my rendevous capturing my attention as i meandered absent-mindedly, but to my grief this was not so. Proceeding her attempts at ceasing my momentum she appealled to my better discretion for monetry support. I found myself somewhat out of place, as 'clearly as day' i was being accosted by this horrible creature of the back alley in full view of my fellow citizen! Yet throughout the ordeal not a single soul came to my assistance. I became appauled at this woman's indecent behaviour. I struggled to fend for myself in the bewilderment of so many 'decent folk' passing me by. The woman continued to clasp - and successfully wrinkle - my attire while to scuff the italian leather shoes i donned. The experience was terrifying. To think back now, i cannot remember for the life of me how i ridded myself of the beastly woman. I must have broken into a light jog and out tired the woman. Imagine! Me jogging. Why the idea is novel in itself.
Needless to say my companion, when i did finally come across Heraclitus, was surprised to find me in such a terrible state. Not that i had broken into a sweat but i was pert near, and in very need of a light refreshment. My attire had shown the battle wounds, such a mixture of embarassment and desparation shone from my flushed face.
I tell you my dear Heretic, never again. I shall not walk those streets until common sense has rained down on the common man. What day and age is in our midst when an armed outstretched is not returned?
Post-humously yours,
Errarcleese.