My Spring BreakBro,
Dude, you are not going to believe what's going on down here. I can't believe you passed up this trip because you're pussy-whipped. Hey, at least you're getting some hog hunting in, right? Just kidding, bro.
Check out what I did on Panau today.
Had a righteous hangover--dude, we were taking shots from a still last night, I swear to God--so I slept in and missed noon breakfast. No worries, though--I just picked up some leftover bacon and downed a couple of brews, then walked out the back door of our bitchin' villa, grapple-hooked off the cliff onto a cigarette boat, tore ass across the bay until I landed near a military base, stole a helicopter, flew up the mountain to a fuel depot, hovered the copter over the depot, then jumped out of the heli, opened my parachute, and grapple hooked away in time to turn around and watch the helicopter and the fuel depot explode. All kinds of alarms and shit were going off, but your boy just grappled up to elevated highway, stole a car, and I was back here in time for Happy Hour.
Knuckle touch. Blow it up, bitch!
There's some kind of political shit going on down here, so half the parties are full of assholes asking you what side you're on, whether you're going to help them with their "just cause." I say, "Dudes, I just came down here to party like a rock star." So I'm doing my own thing, bro, and I may wind up taking this whole island before I'm done. If I text you with "bring more beer," then get your ass down here.
Oh, and sorry, but no room for Lisa. This is a pork-free island.