The Whiskey Kyle Letters

17 Dec


Dear Whiskey Kyle,

How pleased I am to see that you haven’t vandalized anything in recent weeks. This is a strange time for us, Whiskey Kyle. Our money is short, yet our desire to get absolutely shit-faced-plaster-eating-it’s-okay-to-slap-me drunk is great. What to do? I will help you. I will give you a great, great gift. I will give you jug after jug of cheap, poorly made wine. We both know that by the time you are at full strength, Whiskey Kyle, everything tastes the same, anyway. Remember that time Sam made you drink Windex? What a tremendous buzz you had! Never forget, Whiskey Kyle, anything ending with “ex” “ine” or “ol” or “poison” most likely should not be ingested. You got lucky with that Windex–vomiting profusely, thereby expelling it from your body.

Also, no one can drink a gallon of milk in an hour. Not even you.

Your friend,



Hey Kkyle,

Whiy don’t uy shut up!? I’m haviehn such a gud gtime with whiskeyy rite right now! Have you evr hreard of girls/? They might be better than whiskey? They might. Can you make whiskey have bubz? boobdf? Boobs? I think hyoiu can. next time get me wine wiff boobs on it? Anhyway OH SHIT ISA THAT A PEARLJAM SONG ON?! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH BEST BAND EVER! I just saw a dog and it looked at me and I think I yelled something at it.


Whiskey Kyle


Dear Whiskey Kyle,

I’m so sorry to hear that you’ve taken such an antagonistic view of me. I’m also sorry to hear that you’re to the point of screaming at stray animals. What do you hope to achieve?

Whiskey Kyle, I assure you, I mean you no harm. I am your care taker. I have to rebuild what you destroy, be it relationships with women, relationships with friends, or your relationship with your stomach, liver, and brain. I have to do clean all the mysterious stains I find on your clothes in the morning.

Yes, I have heard of women, but no, I cannot put boobs on whiskey or wine. I’m not sure how you realistically expected me to do that. Did you really think I could do that? Were you kidding? I’m worried.

Your friend,



Dear Fucker,

I’m sorry to see that yu’ve taken sush an ant-hand-against-it view of me! Why do you use those words I think you don’t like me? I peed.


Whiskey Kyle


Dear Whiskey Kyle,

First off, it’s antagonistic, not ant-hand-against-it. That doesn’t make any sense. And why do you keep ending declarative sentences with question marks? I can’t tell if I’m supposed to answer you or just listen to you jabber on.

Before you do anything stupid tonight, go through all the possible repercussions. Think to yourself, “If I do decide to sign these papers, officially making Derek and I equal partners in a civil union, will I still find it humorous a week from now? How about twenty-four hours from now? How about two hours from now?” Before you let Angela slap you, ask yourself “Should I at least ask her to take off her wedding ring?” And finally, before you try to do a wicked jump off that handicap ramp, ask yourself “Is this safe? Do I have any experience in performing stunts? How did I get this motorcycle?” and most importantly, “Did I steal this motorcycle?”

One more thing of note. I know you have a propensity to spill. This would make white t-shirts a bad choice, but as I go through all the photographic evidence of your existence, that’s all I see you wearing. Why not wear something with some color? You’re not the Fonz. Change your shirt or wear a bib.

Your friend,



Dear Foop butt 😛

Here’s me:

I just tuk taht with camera. Am Ii Fsamakn>?


Whiskey Kyle.


Dear Whiskey Kyle,

I’m growing more and more concerned for your well-being. That is 90’s heart-throb Jonathan Taylor Thomas, not you. This is you:

This might be difficult for you to look at, as it would be for a vampire who has finally been allowed to see his own reflection, but I tell you, you must look at it. Did you know that this is how you look in your final transformation? Not very good, eh?

To answer your question, I don’t know because you’re not making words anymore.

Your friend,



To my Sober Enemy,

I loOk like a bgadass!



Whiskey Kyle


Dear Whiskey Kyle,

I quit. Just try to not get cirrhosis.

Your friend,


The end.

4 Responses to “The Whiskey Kyle Letters”

  1. greenchikin December 18, 2009 at 8:46 am #

    I think i work out with Whiskey Kyle. And by the way, i beg to differ on the whole “no one can drink a gallon of milk in an hour” thing.

  2. Pat December 25, 2009 at 1:09 pm #

    Whiskey Kyle was at the debate? Or sober Kyle? Or post-Whiskey, hungover Kyle, mildly engaging in Whiskey consumption, but equally hating it?

    • Kyle Irion December 25, 2009 at 4:12 pm #

      Definitely the third option. I did not feel like drinking that night.


  1. The Whiskey Kyle Letters, Part 2 « Eat This, Internet. - January 18, 2010

    […] The Whiskey Kyle Letters, Part 2 2010 January 18 by Kyle Irion Following is a series of correspondence between myself and my intoxicated alter-ego, Whiskey Kyle. A previously documented account of this can be found here. […]

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