the steve-encrusted soulcore

Dear Peanut Guy,

Say you told this girl that you were skydyving over the summer to impress her even though you were really at your Nanna's house in the outer banks and that your really afraid of heights but you still want to impress the girl. how do you do it?

~Friend of A Wimpy Steve

P.S. this happened to my friend STEVE not me.


dear FAWS,

deep within thy conscious being lives a creature much like steve. there is in fact a steve in all of us - all seedlings beneath the rind-charring sun. for only underground will the steves of the world perish, like so many past-due discount half & halves in the Albertson's Dairy Aisle of life. as you read my lordly response, meditate on thine own inner-steve and apply the requisite "steve salve" henceforth daily upon thine tender, steve-encrusted soulcore.

first, know this: engaging in the pedomorphic act of sky diving is roughly as impressive as mastering the cheat code to contra: everybody knows how to do it and you were probably physically strapped to some burly, mephitic expert while doing so. lying about such things is fathomless indeed. the dame of steve's desires likely requires a more subtle, seasoned approach. might i suggest steve take the following steps:

purchase and wear a top hat, monocle, ascot, and kilt, posthaste.

approach the mademoiselle at dawn from the east, such that a halo of dewlight frames thy majestic figure

offer her a single, perfect cactus.

speak the following words: "my lady, i have wronged thee. i lied to win thy heart. i now grovel, pantsless before thee. and if thou should see it fit not to toss me aside like an old bag of moldy tangerines, i would honor thee forever amidst an ever-growing pile of cold, hard cash."

commence frenching.

a steven lurks in all of us,
the peanut guy!