[Like all great art, Kanye West's My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy has inspired a great deal of correspondence. What follows is one of those pieces of correspondence.]
MAN [AFTER SEX]: It’s like you got this shit re-upholstered or something. What the fuck happened?
Who, who the fuck got your pussy all re-upholstered?
KANYE'S EX: Yeezy re-upholstered my pussy.
Thank you so much for last night. You were absolutely amazing, taking me to sexual and emotional heights I never thought possible. Of course, I don't think I've ever been that drunk while screwing before--what was in those shots we were having? Whenever I asked you, you just kept screaming, "I CALL IT MALIBU-YAH! I CALL IT MALIBU-YAH!"
I get the feeling you didn't really know, either.
Anyway, even though the sex was great, I do have a minor concern. Did you, at some point in the night--I'm embarrassed to even ask, because it sounds so silly coming out of my mouth (but I feel as though I must)--Yeezy, at some point in the night, did you re-upholster my pussy?
I don't want you to think that I'm a prude or that I am against sexual experimentation: foodstuffs, hot wax, various lubricants, all are acceptable; but I have to draw the line somewhere, and I think the re-upholstery of my lady-parts is where I am drawing that line.
Given that my she-cave was never even upholstered in the first place, I'm wondering where you even got the idea to spruce it up at all. My only thought is that perhaps, in your excessive drunkenness, you mistook my vajayjay for an old barstool or badly-worn easy chair; however, this is so insulting to the aesthetics of my beaver that I hesitate to even consider it to be true.
So, I suppose we need to discuss how best I can un-upholster (downholster?) my pussy. The daisy-print slipcover you pulled over my honey cove is nice, but totally inappropriate for a vagina--it has to go. Ditto to the soft-cotton batting you saw necessary to supply my coochie with. Similarly, the vaginal wall re-fabricking you did, though tastefully and seamlessly completed (I can't even tell where or how it's attached!), also must be removed (I would do it myself, but I can't even tell where or how it's attached).
So, if you could, please get back to me with a time and a date when it would be convenient for you to return and strip my pussy if this upholstery, getting my pussy back to looking like a normal vagina and not like an East Tampa retirement community Barcalounger. And before you go getting ideas, let me assure you that this is in absolutely no way a come-on whatsoever and that, if this is your little trick for seeing a girl again, then try leaving your fucking belt next time. Thanks to you, my urine smells like hot glue, and every time I cross my legs, my peach pit emits the embarrassing squeal of vinyl rubbing against transparent sofa wrap.
Please write back soon.