Dearest Dear.

Tomorrow I am going hunting with my brother. No, I am not hunting. I am accompanying him around so he won't be alone. I don't want him to get shot. I don't really want Bambi to get shot either. Or his mother. Or his father. Or me.

While I was in Seattle I saw this student letterpress project from SVC. I know it is too small for you to enjoy, but it says "Dearest Dear, I'm sorry my brother shot you." Very well said, although after all these years my brother has not shot one. I think I will be the ticket. I do not want to see Bambi shot. It will happen on my watch.