My supa dupa secret

Dear Bryson,
 
So hey man how you been. I have been pretty good myself except I've had this thing inside that's just destroying me and I need to tell you. Although I feel like I should layout the scene and explain first. It was a glorious Friday afternoon about a month ago or so, and I was about to leave my 7th period class, English. This class is always fun because it is taught by the all knowing Mr.Juarez. You were telling us all about your new favorite CD, yes the new Jessica Simpson one. I have never really
Liked her I was more of a fergie man, I mean come on its fergie. But that's not the point the real point I'm trying to make here is that later that day you came over to chill like real homies do after a long week of school. And you know when us dudes get from school we are hungry. So as my guest I made you some pop tarts, like some real thugs. So I went and make the pop tarts and when I came back you were holding a bag with a goldfish in it. When I asked you what his name was you said Carl. I thought to myself what an interesting and sophisticated name for a goldfish. I had always wanted a smart stylish goldfish but my parents said that they weren't Gucci and would make me look like a lame. So when you left I said goodbye and went downstairs and realized you left Carl there. So I went down and took him and put him in a bowl in my room. He has been there ever since that day and his name is now Alfred not Carl.