Apples to Apples, Dust to Dust

Dear John Updike,

I've been meaning to read those Rabbit books for a long time. I started one when I was a kid, but my dad said I was too young. (He's the one who told me, by the way. He said he's sad.) I read it later and there was a sex scene in which Harry's wife had an orgasm immediately after penetration which made me doubt your understanding of, uh, the female experience. I never finished it, but I don't think that's why. I did some report on you when I was fourteen and I remember you had an essay about women dancing I rather liked. The collection also included an interview you had with yourself and I recall that being funny. Oh, and that story about the convenience store near the beach that none of its customers visit? Excellent, although I'm sure it's cliche to say.

According to The New York Times's article on the subject (you), you said you wanted to give "the mundane its beautiful due."

I know just what you meant.

Farewell,
Lily

^ apples.
David Foster Wallace gave me more to work with, pun-wise.
I'm a horrible person.