BLADE,

We have had a series of discussions regarding the 10pm newscast, and I wanted to let you know that your name has come up in a possible switch of producers. We know that there is a creative edge that is missing and we (my co-anchor and I) feel that you would make an ideal replacement. Would you be interested in such a trade? I can speak to our General Manager and News Director on your behalf if you are.

On a more personal note, I overheard you saying (repeatedly) to other people that you would have liked to do me at the Christmas party. Blade, this is unprofessional. You should have told me of your feelings yourself. I am a woman, Blade. And as a woman, I have needs. I love your long hair and I dream of it brushing against my thighs as you bathe my twat with your tongue. I need you to work on my love button, and no, it isn't a mole.

Evening Anchor

To: Production

From: Bob

I just wanted to let you guys know that my lawsuit against Matt Groening and Fox is going well. They finally admitted that Homer Simpson was created after meeting me in an airport lounge one day (now you know why Homer is such a big fan of beer and donuts...well, food in general).

They're talking about settling out of court for more money than any of you will ever see working here, so when the money comes through, you suckers are on your own! At last I'll be able to make my truck payment without taking Rusty's raise!

IKE:

Are you still planning to come up here Christmas Eve and plant your anemic little tinkler in my hot, moist, love-hole? You promised me you would, you sexy ball of feces! I want you to hold my fuzzy houseshoes in the air while you smash against my thighs in a futile attempt to reach my sloppy slit with that pimple you call a penis. Then I'll roll up my vibrating back-mat and stuff it so far up your butt, your voice will quaver. Then I'll call my husband to come up here in his robe and flip-flops and kick your ass.

See you on the 24th,
Morning Producer

BACHELOR PARTY:

Well, boys, I've finally broken down and decided to strap on the old ball and chain. In honor of my impending funeral -- er, nuptials -- I'd like to invite you all to my first (and, I hope, only) bachelor party.

I have something a little different in mind for this one, though; no strippers, no bar-hopping, no whoopee cushions. No, this Saturday, I'd like for us all to get together at my apartment. I'd like for all of you to hold me down and fuck me silly.

I suppose, if this were a TRUE bachelor party, I should only invite my single friends, but how much fun would THAT be? I know some of you "family men" wouldn't mind a little digging in my "basement" (yes, Bob, I caught that wink from you the other day). Ike, you bring that 5-gallon can of grease you keep under the chyron station. I want you to tie my balls to the ceiling fan and whack my sack like it was a little hairy pinata.

Please RSVP if you'll be able to attend (I need to know how much quiche I should bake). I'm looking forward to this SO MUCH. And don't worry...things don't have to stop once I'M married, either. As long as I'm around you studs, there'll ALWAYS be a party in MY pants!

See you Saturday,
Storr

LUNCH MENU FOR TODAY:

Meat (Tommy's)
Tater Tits
Scholng Salad (yes, Les, you can have two helpings)
Penis Pasta
Hairy Nut Souffle'
Tommy's Cup-a-Jizz

Eat Up,
Tommy

Sweet Male Reporter,

Ever since I sent that message to you, and you commented in that sly way, my imagination has run wild with thoughts of what I'd do to you. I want to find out if you really know what I like, and if not, I'll be happy to teach you. I'll teach you how I love to have my hiney caressed. I'm sure your right hand would feel exquisite plunging my love hole (even if it's a fist, would it still just be two fingers?). How I love when you ask me for those special graphics, for I know that when we get home, you'll thank me in your own special way. I know that I can look forward to seeing you in those leather chaps that accentuate your tiny tush. Oh, how that turns me on!!! How I long to feel you tickle my colon once again....

Thinking of you only,
Ike

Cody,

It's been a long time since I've had the opportunity to tell you how happy I am when I'm in your arms. Your hairy knuckles make my skin tingle when you brush wisps of hair out of my eyes as we lie together in front of the fireplace. Not since we took that trip to the Cayman Islands and tried our hands at nude sail-boarding have I felt so fulfilled.

I look forward to a very special Valentine's Day with you on Monday.

Thankful to be your woman,
Tommy

Blade,

I am logged on in the control room....please fuck me like you're drunk and I'm Von.

Tommietta

Blade,

There is nothing more fulfilling than to have you constantly shove your white cock in my mouth every night when you come in.

I just wanted to tell you that every night, when I am preparing for the evening broadcast, I am constantly thinking of you. Maybe that's why I can't seem to get the words out right.

I just wanted you to know, you bring me the joy...the joy of jism, the joy of jamming your joint in my joint.

I think I'll write a song about it.

"YOU BRING ME THE JOY, JOY OF JISM, JUST THE GREAT JOY, JOY OF YOUR JOINT IN MY JOINT, THE BOYS JINGLING IN MY FACE."

Thank you, Blade, for setting the perfect example for young producers. Soon every young white man will fill my mouth with their joy!

Evening Anchor

STAN:

When are you going to comb my bush with your tooth again?

I miss you,
Tommy

I am changing my name to Poof Daddy. Anyone wishing to help me in researching my first single, "It's All About the Buttjammings," please let me know.

Thanks--
Snoop Bobby Bob

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