To the Esteemed Bunbury,
My sincerest apologies for not sending you an invitation. I assure you it was no coincidence that I killed you before the wedding. I simply had to rid myself of you in a hurry. If it's of any consolation, my dear fictitious brother, I did go into mourning. I think last Tuesday's three-piece suit was supposed to be black, until I opted for nice banana yellow instead. It is simply too lovely outside to wear such dark colours. I hope you'll understand.
I don't know how to tell you this, Bunbury, but your attempt at life was dismal. This is of utmost concern to me and so I have taken it upon myself to live for the both of us. Cecily makes an excellent partner and only amplifies my feelings of happiness. There is the off chance I remember that she is my lawful wife now and again, but I do an effective job of forgetting about that. Even as I write about it, the whole ordeal seems more like a business negotiation to me.
I do enjoy quality time with sweet Cecily, to a point. Excessive talking feels far to formal for me at which point I excuse myself to pursue other endeavours. Cecily never inquires about what I do; I think she rather enjoys writing about them instead. When I do return to her, she has finished writing. I take great pleasure in being reminded of what I have done, as Cecily's version is always more fascinating. Besides, I have such tremendous fun when I am away that I often forget to remember the details. It's also quite pointless to feel any amount of remorse for this. All husbands lead double lives, anyway.
The clearest memory in my mind is the time I apparently went along with Jack to acquaint ourselves with the ladies of Brighton. By the afternoon, we had personalized revelations that we really only required the love of our wives. Cecily then told me she wouldn't mind me having an affair, provided she was properly introduced to the woman. At that moment I told her how perfectly thoughtful she was. I hadn't actually been considering an affair yet, but having your wife support you no matter which path you take is truly a blessing.
If marriage is primarily the task of staying alive long enough to die with someone, then I can give you a firm report that I am doing a smashing job of staying alive. It is my humble duty to you, Bunbury, to keep you informed. I speak for the both of us when I ay that even in death we are not likely to part.
With affection as predictable as life,