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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Sunday, December 14, 2025
Dear Uncle Sam,
I know this might seem like a letter of indulgence to you, seeing as we made all those plans to infiltrate the "Save the Children" organization and shamelessly purloin their charity funds, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — really. No, really. Those are teardrops on the letter, and not spittle from laughter. I just need to kick you while you're down, before the snooker comes on the telly. I want to tell you that I think you are really quite adequate, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are from another dimension, and I am an amateur weightlifter. You like traveling to other cities and show up uninvited at total strangers birthday parties, pushing unsuspecting tourists off from very high places and watch them fall, and sewing extra limbs onto your body, and I'm just not sure I can ever share your joy in those things. How can two people so different ever make it for the long haul? I think we should date again, but in another life — preferably a previous one. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I wiretap your telephone calls. I'd really like us to become a Heathcliff and Catherine-like ghost couple and creep out softhearted onlookers in our restless afterlife, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, even if they only lasted a few microseconds. Take care of yourself and never forget to eat your vegetables.
~ Sheila (my street name). |