I wrote this piece because my mailbox was full of bills, junk mail, and lettuce, but not a single letter from Andre Breton. So I decided I’d write to him (though I did eat my first two drafts).

“A brick could be used to destroy your mannequin lover. It’s the only proper thi…”

“Love, I wrote the book on it. Unfortunately, nobody would publish it, so I felt…”

“I just made some yawn pudding. Can I feed you some before bed?”

“Strangled or stabbed, which you rather have for dessert?”