Dear Cardinal Consultant #2,
I can’t believe you’re really gone. I never imagined living in a world without the constant click-clacking of your iPad keys. The crawlspace is so quiet without the echoing of your Borat impression. I almost miss it. You were getting pretty okay.
The kid misses you. I know we never gave it a name after it was stolen from the wellness fair, so I named it Cardinal Consultant #2 in your honor. I hope you don’t mind that I used your alias, but I couldn’t remember your real name. I think it started with an M. Or maybe it was an A? There was definitely an A in there somewhere.
I just can’t imagine continuing the column without you. My spelling is far too bad for spell check to take on alone. You truly were always their for me. When the Editor-in-Chief tried to fire me, when I got attacked by birds, when I was in that one situationship—you always knew what to say and who to punch. I’m going to lose so many fights without you.
So, that said, with a heavy heart, I have to retire my cardinal feather quill.
I’ll miss you,
Cardinal Consultant #1
Dear Cardinal Consultant #1,
Why do you keep saying that I died? I’m only moving to the University of Utah. I know you peaked in high school, but that doesn’t mean graduation is a funeral for both of us.
I promise to visit you wherever you end up. Are you still debating which clown school to commit to? I know I doubted you and I’m sorry about that. You’ll be the best clown in the biz. You could even run for office!
Personally, I will be giving all future advice in person, often unsolicited and always wrong. I don’t think any newspaper is going to hire me when they hear about what I did to our editor-in-chief. Sorry, Camilla!
With a healthy amount of (purely platonic) love,
Cardinal Consultant #2
P.S. *There
