I Am Sorry About Sending You a Picture of My Penis

Dear Vanessa,

Regarding the recent "sext message" I sent you which contained a picture of an engorged penis: Your swift and litigious response has made me realize that this advance was not entirely welcome, and that an apology might be warranted.

Sorry about sending you a picture of my penis.

Like this, but more tasteful.

Although you may not wish to hear it, I've decided to explain my rationale here, hopeful that once you see things from my perspective your demeanor towards me might thaw. Frankly, I believe many outside observers would agree that I was in fact entirely justified sending you such a picture. "It's the 21st century," I imagine them saying. "Relax."

Why I sent you a picture of my penis:

One, we have had two pleasant conversations in the past weeks, and exchanged several flirtatious "text" messages, leading me to believe you were interested in the topic of my romance-hammer.

Secondly, scientists agree that nothing is more attractive to a woman than the sight of a man's penis, aside from perhaps charm, money, broad shoulders, motorcycles, a sense of humor and money.

Third-wise, I made every effort to frame this picture as romantically as possible, even going to the point of placing a very small puffy collared shirt and riding jacket on moi petite monsieur, garbing him like one of the suitors in those Regency romances your gender loves so much.

"Darling, I've recently commissioned a portrait of Mr. Johnson, and am having a viewing party in a fortnight. I'd love terribly much for you to attend."

Based on these points, and my healthy sense of self-regard, I assumed you would react much differently to this missive. Although consequences matter, so does intent, and surely you can see that I was acting with only the best of intentions. Any future viewings of my penis will follow solely after your invitation.

Yours apologetically,

Chris Bucholz

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Steve,

I sent you that by mistake. Fricking autocomplete -- meant to be sent to your mom. Do not forward that to anyone you bleach-addled self-diddler.

I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, in part because you're a son of a bitch, and also in part because I got tired of hanging around with someone who smells like he washes his hair with shit. But don't let those differences keep you from deleting the personal picture I sent you right now.

Please?

-Chris Bucholz

P.S. If you don't, I swear to God I will marry your mom out of spite, just so I can spank you. And it will be way weirder than it sounds.

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Dear Mr. CableQuest,

I'd like to apologize for sending you that picture of my penis last month. I can assure you that it was a clerical error and not, as your letter of June 3rd suggested, offered in lieu of payment.

But, if it was, what do you think it might be worth to you? Your letter only stated that it could not be used to cover the expense of $116.42 for my cable and Internet services incurred in the month of April. But is there any value you can derive out of it at all? Put in a frame, it'd make a nice gift for a lonely secretary or a confused teenage son. I can stencil the CableQuest logo on there if you like; maybe put together one of those viral videos the morons love these days. Is that worth anything to you? Like maybe three or four dollars? I will do a lot of things for three or four dollars -- just let me know and I'll pull the trigger immediately.

Actually, speaking of "pulling the trigger," would that make these pics worth anything more to you? Let me know.

Chris Bucholz, account number #45-67212783

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TO: Jack O'Brien

Re: Whoopsy-daisy

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Hey Jack,

Sorry about that cock picture I just sent you. I'm working on something for next week's column, and my research got a little out of hand. It's also kind of cold here (Canada) so don't judge too harshly.

Hot dogs are smaller in Canada too.

-Bucholz

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Mr. and Mrs. Lipton,

Concerning the ransom I expect for the safe return of your son Nick, I'd like to apologize for the picture of a penis that was enclosed in the note I sent you last week. This mistake may have implied a level of debauchery which I in no way condone, nor claim to be threatening. Any threat to your son (more on his condition in a second) will rest assured not involve anything so foul.

Here's how it happened. You know that classic prank amongst friends, where someone swipes a friend's camera and photographs their business with it, with the expectation that their friend will recoil in arousement when scrolling through the pics later? One of my colleagues pulled this stunt on me, and I apologize for getting you involved with this immature ass-grabbery.

(Note that my colleague -- for the sake of anonymity, I'll simply refer to him as DOB -- claims that it wasn't him, and that even though it wasn't him, he'd been drinking heavily that night, and that he can be more impressive down there under other circumstances.)

How the picture ended up enclosed with the ransom note is a simple story. It seems that when I was printing the pictures of Nick holding that day's newspaper, I accidentally printed the offending picture as well. I'm as unhappy about this as you are -- the ink for those Kodak printers is outrageously expensive. As the fault was mine, I won't invoice you for the costs or ask them to be appended to your son's ransom.

Concerning Nick, he is in low spirits (the news of the printer ink expenses troubled him greatly) but is otherwise unharmed. Though please note that if you fail to provide $1,000,000 as discussed in my earlier penis-laden note, I will slaughter him like a duck.

Yours kidnappingly,

X

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To the editors of The New Yorker,

Look! Words! Ha! I bet you're relieved to see these in an envelope from me!

Now that we've shared a laugh, I'd like to explain, and if once that's done we still deem it necessary, apologize for the large glossy photo of a turgid penis that I recently sent in the post to you.

First, all cards on the table. The penis was mine, and yes, it's real. Thank you. Second, I sent you this penis not to titillate you, nor to propose a sweaty rendezvous with the entirety of your editorial staff, but to serve as an introduction. Your publication is clearly in need of someone with my artistic and intellectual qualifications. As an acceptably hung writer for a failed children's magazine, I am perfectly suited to the task of guiding your readership through the salty waves of online culture.

"But," I hear you saying, "someone who mails pictures of his genitals is clearly a lunatic." Ahh, not so. Would a lunatic have thought to print his penis on matte paper, implying a sober and serious nature to his member, engorged with professionalism? Would a lunatic have sent a follow-up card containing a pop-up cardboard cutout of a penis to further grab your attention? No lunatic would have the patience to craft such a loving gesture, nor have the playful appreciation of how a perversion of the two dimensional medium could be used to launch a different perversion in the face of a mailroom clerk.

I think then with the facts laid bare as a penis, it's clear I acted rightly, and can assume you agree and wish to publish my musings at once. Thank you. My rate is $35/word, and my first piece will be about He-Man's underpants.

Furry Britches Ruminations by. Chris Bucholz

Yours professionally,

Christopher Xavier Bucholz

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Be sure to check out more from Bucholz in 7 Tips for Sexting Someone You Barely Know and Every Chore's An Adventure When You 'Muppet Baby' That Shit.