Hi there, I’m Peter. My friends call me Petey, Petite, Purple Pete, Sneaky Snake, and Pan. Cuz, you know, the fictional character. The one that never grows old. Short of the green tights and pointy hat, that’s me in a nutshell.
Well, I used to have tights. But I gave that up years ago. Look at me, rambling on. And I’m only permitted 3,000 words. I hate to bunch up my whole personality into one block of letters, but shoot, it’s so hard to meet young, fine-looking girls these days.
I usually have to go to a park, clamp my shades over my spectacles, stretch back, and let my hair do the talking. I let the whispies reel’em in. I get about one or two a day. They walk dogs, baby-sit kids, or even go for a jog.
Not me. I just sit and wait. Not like a pervert or anything. More like a young, strong Fabio waiting for his next vixen to conquer. Oh, well, I’ve said too much. But have I even said enough. Oh, there I go again, gettin’ all R.E.M. on you guys. Lets hope I don’t go “Losing My Religion” before we get the chance to sit down and talk.
Dinner’s on me, sweet pea. Waddya say?