open letter to mothers who nervously clench their strollers more tightly when they pass an unshowered rex innocently walking his dog on the greenway

I don’t want your kids. Seriously. Frankly, I’m afraid of most children and avoid them whenever possible. In fact, I dare say that I am more afraid of your children than you are of me, and the same goes for Carl Weathers. He doesn’t slip behind me as we pass because he is well trained--rather, he stays away from them of his own accord, as they tend to poke him and prod him and sometimes even pull on his silky ears. Believe me, he will not eat you children. He may not be well trained, but that dog is keen enough to know that children these days are composed of more fat than meat and therefore not worth taking down.

Anyway, I can see how frequent elementary school performances of my critically ignored puppet show The Smoking Monkey That Could But Didn’t might lead you to believe that I have an interest in the next generation. I do not. It is simply that most local judiciaries have been kind enough to classify these performances as “community service”.

So, as you can see, you have nothing to worry about, especially those of you with babies. The only thing more uninteresting than children are baby children, and I can assure you that I have no desire whatsoever to relieve you of them.

Anyway, all I ask is that you try to avoid giving me that look of fear that is only allowable in those who have gotten to know and legitimately fear me for valid reasons.

Let us not forget that we are living in a society, ladies.

Yours,

Rex