Dear Jimmy Mule,
I think you are a fine human being, despite your grim, hideous, frightening, ghastly, monstrous, demonic, awe-inspiring, Jacob Marleyesque, wraith-like visage (unsettling as it is) with which you cheerfully greet the world as only a Laughing Madman could, or would even dare to.
Sincerely, and with the Deepest Sympathy, I remain your loyal servant and, I pray, your friend (despite all of our deformities),MDB
Dear Mr. Mule-Skinner,
I like my scar. It is my friend. Goes with me wherever I go. Please tread lightly around my scar! I have earned it. Yes, it is a badge, a sign, a mark, sort of like the mark of Cain, but in this case, let's call it the Mark of Jimmy Mule.
I appreciate your kind words, your greviously sweet terms of endearment, but, I beg to differ Mr. Skinner, I am NOT in any way, shape or form a fine human being. Human yes... being yes... but let's leave the simpering "fine-ness" of being to the blushing ladies, and the little dainty ones...
Yes, of course we are friends, kindred souls, and humbled, and shackled servants who recognize each other. We both see a fellow DEFORMED NOBLEMAN!
We must stick together Mr. Skinner. We are a dying breed. Lonely, wraith-like phantoms, who can disappear at the lighting of a match. POOF!