I am in trouble!

Dearest Fitzy "The Bear" Fitzgerald,

This is a photograph I took of Madison Square Garden.

Oh woah is me! That's the way that famous poets say it, but it's also the way that I say it when I feel true sadness in my heart. And when I'm as bankrupt as my father! If only I hadn't made that confounded wager! I can only begin to relate to you the torment...the misery...the pathos...

As you know, it was my incredible good fortune to win one ticket to travel across the world for the holy honor of visiting the Utah Jazz at Madison Square Garden. Well, as you may not know, it was also my incredible good fortune to find a dapperly-attired and handlebar-moustachioed gentleman who would take my bet of $400,000 USD that the Utah Jazz would win.

Who knew that the Harlem Globetrotters were the scrampy court tricksters they turned out to be!? I'll tell you who. Gary knew. Gary being the middle name of the moustachioed gentleman who would take my bet of $400,000. (His first name was also Gary).

And so it was that as I took my seat in Madison Square Garden, I watched in horror as the likes of Big Easy Lofton, Moo Moo Evans and Mr. Biz Thompson made a mockery of the unusually lax defense of my precious Utah Jazz. Balls were juggled about, helicopter trick dunks made, and more than one silly face was offered in sick jest to the ingenuously inattentive referees. For shame! By the end of the game, Buckets Blakes had made it ever-so-clear that his name was no mere accident of chance. It was allegory.

Yes, Fitzy, I was stunned and shocked. The Utah Jazz, of all teams, had been defeated. And there I was. Trapped...trapped with no money...no friends...no place to stay...in a city known for its population of mindless criminals.

Oh, Fitzy. What shall I do?

Yours,
Philip Brightmore, Champion Dog Breeder