A Series of Letters to Corbin, the Man Living in My Attic

2015-12-24-1450930289-1539974-FullSizeRender.jpg

An Open Letter to Corbin, the Man Living in My Attic

November 15th

Hello Corbin,

I assume your name is Corbin because of how often you scream, "My name is Corbin!" from within my walls. I'm not a man who likes confrontation. I didn't say anything when you started squatting in the attic. I didn't say anything when Mr. Tibbles disappeared. Maybe he ran away, cats do that.

I didn't say anything when the jars of tomato juice started showing up in my fridge.

I sure didn't say anything when I find out that it was not tomato juice.

But you've finally gone too far.

I want my jean jacket back. Corbin, do you have any idea how hard it is to find a good-looking jean jacket? It's tough. They're itchy. Sometimes they look like they were pulled off a time traveler from 1991. The point is, when I walked in that Goodwill in Erwine, Oklahoma I thought:

My god Gerald, you did it. You found the jacket. The jean jacket you can wear for the rest of your life.

I want my jacket back, Corbin. I flooded the basement and I filled the attic with fire ants. Fire ants, Corbin.

I know you're in the walls because who else is weeping and screaming, "My name is Corbin!"

Look, just give me my jacket back. I won't dig up whatever you buried in the backyard and I'll leave your jars of tomato juice and maraschino cherries that I know are neither alone.

Just give my jacket back, Corbin.

Stop being a dick.

-The guy who lives in the rest of the house

Another Open Letter to Corbin, the Man Living in My Attic

December 1st

My Dear Corbin,

I get it. You're mad. But look, if you want the jade skull back, just give me my jacket.

Look, I don't like having the skull. It yells and I'm losing a lot of sleep. My work performance is suffering and I keep waking up with mud on my feet. Where am I going at night, Corbin? I don't know.

Just return my jean jacket and we can let this whole crazy thing slide. I'll return your jade skull, those candles, and the papers. Are those maps? Never mind, it's not important what they are or what they say. Can you really speak Latin? I had to take a class in college and it was hard.

Sorry, the no sleeping thing is making me ramble. Just going on and on and what not. The jacket is blue, but it has these black faux leather bits on the shoulders. In case you forgot.

Please do the right thing.

-The guy who lives in the rest of the house

Yet Another Open Letter to Corbin, the Man Living in My Attic

December 10th

Corbin,

I'm writing this from within the wall. It's very cramped. I know you're in here somewhere. Or at least my jacket is. I know I said I would leave the backyard alone but you never responded to my letters. I didn't find a jacket. Was that a goat? It was big but there were definitely horns.

Anyway, here in the wall, writing to you. I'll leave this note by the pile of torn up newspapers. I think this is where you sleep?

Honestly, just let me now where the jacket is. Otherwise, I'm going to stay in the wall. I'll stay right here. Maybe I'll steal your catchphrase. See how you like it, Corbin!

"I'm the guy who lives in the rest of the house!"

-The guy who lives in the rest of the house

One More Open Letter to Corbin, the Man Living in My Attic

December 24th

Cor-Bear,

I'm still here, Corbin. I know you're out there. I know you're sleeping in my bed and I know you tried to use my Magic Bullet. Corbin, I make smoothies with that. I bought it off the TV, Corbin. I bought it. Off. The TV.

Bring me my jacket, Corbin, and you can have your wall back. Until then, I'll be right here, Corbin.

Hugs and Kisses,

-The guy who lives in the walls