Lots of times, I'll read a letter to Prudence and immediately be like "Fake." They can be pretty entertaining, but I say boo to fake letters in general. That's why I appreciated this one, because there's some shit people really aren't capable of making up. This lady (I assume) says she's been employed for the past three years by a small business owner with "serious mental health issues." The one other employee told the OP that while she was out on vacation, the boss started SHITTING in the private shower that only the three of them have access to. The co-worker smelled the smell and made the horrifying discovery, but she's so intimidated and freaked out by this total loon that she didn't even say anything. She just let it sit there for DAYS until the cleaning crew came by and took care of it. This happened twice! What must the cleaners think of them? Apparently, the closest she ever came to a confrontation was an oblique reference to a "strange smell," but the boss told her it was all just her imagination.

The loony behavior really kicked into high gear when the co-worker started up at the office, so now that she's quitting in terror and disgust, the OP hopes things will go back to whatever the fuck counts as normal around there. She doesn't want to leave the job, because the long list of crazy things her boss does includes paying her a lot more than she could expect to get someplace else. Prudie says that the point is kind of moot anyway, because it's only a matter of time before her boss gets snagged in an oversized butterfly net wielded by men in white coats. All the escalating doo-doo related insanity just isn't sustainable in the long run, so she says to actively begin looking for other work.

The next letter comes from a 13 year old girl who's trying to figure out where to draw the line between right and wrong. Her friends like to talk about boys about as often as you might expect, and she worries that their jokes about the lads and their ding-dongs are somehow "disrespectful" to boy-itude itself. In support of this thesis, she drops the following instant classic: "I hear female artists like Katy Perry and Lady Gaga sing about weenies in their music, but I don't know many high profile male musicians who sing about the female anatomy in their music." BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! *wipes tears from eyes* Moving on, Prudie says that being boy or girl obsessed and constantly giggling with your friends about it is perfectly normal and O.K. She also says that she trusts her to tell the difference between a little harmless female bonding and more cruel mockery of individuals.

Neighbor problems are also dealt with, featuring a single mother to whom the letter writer is otherwise friendly. They give each other desserts, pet-sit and all that good stuff, but the lady also enjoys sitting out on her back porch, talking and smoking cigarettes alongside her ten year old daughter. Prudie says that's not the sort of thing you can just ignore, and tells the neighbor to call the principal at the kid's school and inform them that some kind of crazy shenanigans are taking place in her home life.

Finally, a 26 year old grad school guy and his long-time girlfriend just bought a house together and the lucky gent plans on popping the question soon. Trouble is, a little less than a year ago he got loaded at a party and banged around with some rando, which he feels just terrible about. More importantly, madame has called to inform that she's bearing a child of uncertain paternity. He feels pretty clear in that regard, since he said he didn't even bust during their magical encounter, but he still feels the sword of Damocles hanging over the perfect little life he's built for himself. Prudie points out that people like him are the reason we have damn STDs in the world, and that he could easily have lit his nice girlfriend up with some hot fire off of that bullshit. While she usually advises people to let the past be the past, she says he needs to get out in front of this one and come clean. If I was going to make that apology, I'd try to emphasize that I love her and that I couldn't bear to move forward in the relationship (hint hint) with that kind of guilty secret, blah blah blah. The only trouble is figuring out how to mention that there's a minor Maury Povich situation going on, even if I'm about 90% sure I'm Not the Daddy.