Paging Mr. Fudpucker

I've known Orville E. Fudpucker for 22 years. The problem is that I've never met him. Nonetheless, his name has lived with me from the time I heard it used in vain in the back of a school bus. Apparently normal interests were too routine for fellow 8th grader, Greg Brill. Somehow, he was moved to "read" the local phone book. My guess was that he was just feeding his adolescent curiosity by looking up a few choice words, but that's only a guess. Perhaps it really was by freak chance that Greg had stumbled upon the noble surname of Fudpucker. Laying aside Master Brill's research methodology, the real issue is that while Greg has likely forgotten about Mr. Fudpucker, I haven't. And after 21 years, I feel compelled to resolve an epistemological tension I have between knowing the name but not the person.

So, I've decided to contact Mr. Fudpucker.

The only problem is that I'm not sure what to say. This would no doubt be one of the oddest letters anyone has ever received--even odder than the letter my family got from the U.S. Department of the INTERIOR that had NOTHING in it. Anyway, here's a rough draft:

February 13, 2006

Mr. Orville E. Fudpucker
1021 E. 15th Street
Plano, TX 75074-6221

(Yes, that's his real address, and he might be happy to hear from you also.)

Dear Mr. Fudpucker:

I've known about you since 1984 when a buddy of mine on the school bus came across your name in the phone book while looking for the "F" word. Anyway, I just wanted to write and say "Hi." I just figured that since I have known your name for the last 21 years, it's time you know mine. Granted, my name isn't as fun to say as yours, but it's what people call me.

Well, that's really about all I have to say.

Sincerely,

Raul Mosley

PS The kid on the bus who was making fun of your name was Greg Brill. There are only 14 of them in the country, so best of luck in tracking him down.