An Artie Lange Exclusive

LOVE LETTERS FROM STEAKBELLIE'S PARENTS.

I stole these from his parents' attic. I told them I was looking for my cat. Amazing insight into the molding of an eating giant.

October 15, 1970

Tina,

As first dates go, last night was one of the best. Your hair shined luminously thanks to the buffet-heating lamp. Pulling chairs directly up the wing bar was so thoughtful and a good use of our time. I think I love you.

I hope this doesn’t scare you but I feel so comfortable talking with you and sharing my feelings about what makes a good Bolognese.

I hope we can go out again sometime.

Affectionately,

Ted

P.S. Thanks for putting out in the back of my Pacer. I knew that bubble hatchback would come in handy!



December 25, 1970

Dear Ted,

Merry Christmas, sweetheart. I can’t believe it has been two whole months! You continue to charm me with your affectionate ways. Renting the Hickory Farm store for an intimate dinner last evening was so sweet. This morning, I literally pooped one of those cheese logs with the nuts on top, still intact. Don’t laugh at me silly. At least I knew the sausage was wrapped (not yours, I hate the feel of condoms in my ass).

Ted, I hope this feeling never ends. Well, I do hope the feeling of constipation ends; eating an entire Yule Time Family Cheese Pack was probably not a good idea. The feelings for you (and that fucking awesome heroin you scored) are so real, so strong. I do love you!

Our first holiday together; may there be many, many more.

Luv,

Tina



January 1, 1971

Tina,

I hate the fact that we fought last night. I am so sorry. I thought you wanted to see me with another man.

Please let me make it up to you. I’ll take you to Beefsteak Charlie’s and we can feed each other the shrimp cocktails, and laugh as we eat a half a head of iceberg lettuce covered in blue cheese dressing and bacon bits. A bottle of Martini and Rossi will be brought to the table, for sure. Tina, nothing would make me happier than sharing a half gallon of snapper soup with you and downing a box of those oyster crackers. Baked potatoes? Let’s get two each. Filled with butter and sour cream. Broccoli? You bet, boiled until it loses all its color (just as you like it). Of, course we will have to order the surf and turf. I’ll order you an extra large t-bone and a school of flounder (just don’t fill up on white bread, hee hee!). Cheesecake with canned cherries will be served as dessert. Of course, we will have a Sanka, nothing but the best.

Please let me make it up to you. I love you, Tina, and I want the new year to start off right. We are meant to be together.

Yearning for you,

Ted




January 3, 1971

Dear Ted,

I don’t care that you had gay sex. Do you think I’m that shallow? I think man-on-man action is very beautiful and natural. Should we ever have kids, I am going to make sure they experience man love by the time they go to a state school to study art.

I’m angry because you ate the last piggy in a blanket without even asking me. I thought we had a deal. We wait by the kitchen door and highjack all the hors d'oeuvres before they make their way to the guests. That was our deal. The tray leaves the kitchen and we get to work, every eater for him or her self. Imagine how shocked I was to find you, head first in the oven, eating frozen mini-weenies that were just put in a few seconds before.

Rules matter, Ted. You may not agree but I think there should be an accredited organization that sets standards and officiates the gurgitation habits of people like us. I mentioned it to the Shea brothers as we did lines of coke and they agreed. They are such nice guys with beautiful straw hats. I’d FOCE either of them if given the chance (sorry about the spelling, my Smith Corona manual typewriter sometimes gets stuck and I have to use what letters still work).

Ted, I want us to be together. I want us to be a team and spit on those Goddamn, baby-killing, pig soldiers as they arrive off the tarmac. But you need to be aware of my feelings and the fact that you are standing on my foot. The pain is so great I am left speechless; hence the letter which I will hand to you now.

Love,

Tina



February 22, 1971

Dearest Ted,

I can’t believe you got drafted, sent to boot camp, and 4-f’d all in the course of two days. What did you do to make the Army dismiss you so quickly?

Ted, I am writing with some news. Good news I hope. I am pregnant. That’s right. I am going to have a baby. The father is one of the following:

Dean Martin
Joe Namath
Dick Nixon
The cast of Laugh-in (they really socked it to me!)
Willis Reed
Neil Armstrong
The stock boy at Grants
Kurt Vonnegut
Walter Cronkite
Cop who let me off with a warning
You

In fairness, I will ask everyone for blood test, to eliminate people. I hope you are the father, Ted. I do. I do.

I love you forever and am sorry if this news comes as a surprise or hurts you,

Tina




WESTERN UNION

TO: TINA

CANCEL ALL BLOOD TESTS
I WILL BE THE CHILD’S FATHER
IF BOY, WE WILL NAME STEAKBELLIE.
IF GIRL, WE WILL NAME MADONNA
IF BLACK, WILLIS REED’S BABY.

TED