Just Between Friends

Dear Stretch of Fifth Avenue, Just South of West 23rd Street:
This is a delicate issue, and one that I wish I didn’t have to address. But it’s better that I do, rather than ignore it, because it’s something that just needs to be said. We’re friends, and I feel I can tell you anything.
The problem is (and please don’t take this the wrong way) that you, well, let’s just say that you’re not smelling so fresh. I don’t know if this is a recent phenomenon, because as you know, I ordinarily take a slightly different route home and only see you from across the street. So when I decided to come over to greet you this morning on my way home from the gym, I must say I was shocked. (I daresay appalled — I’m sorry, but I was.)
I don’t ever remember you smelling this bad. Not even last summer when the humidity was, as we liked to joke, “like a crotch”. This summer, however, I must say that you smell like one. And not in a good way.
What’s particularly alarming is that your problem is so intense that not only did it overpower the glorious aroma of J’Adore, the French bakery several yards away, but completely obliterated it.
I probably won’t see you until tomorrow morning, or Thursday morning at the latest, but if you’d like to talk about this before then, I’d be willing to do so. Provided, of course, that you use the telephone on your block.
Again, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I do it because we’ve been such good friends for so long. I tell you because I care.
autograph, worth a pretty penny
P.S. I’m sorry if I offended you. But frankly, you started it. It’s a two-way street.