Little Love Notes from B.

Dear Mrs. Wigglebottom:

I don’t know if you’ve noticed but the garbage men are just as afraid of you as you are of them.  If you would please stop shaking and cowering when we go by them, I would appreciate it.

Love,

Aunt B.

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Dear Garbage Men:

That’s right.  My dog will eat your face off if I just give her the word, so don’t fuck with us.  You seem nice, but don’t try anything hinky.

Love,

Aunt B.

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Dear Old Man:

I’m trying to eat.  Look, right here, you’ll see a plate of food that I was ingesting.  But I’m not now.  You know why?

Because I watched you pull your contact out of your eye, swish it around in your mouth for a good five minutes, and then put it back in your eye.

I could have forgotten about that, except that you spent the rest of the meal facing away from me, picking at whatever was on the back of your head that was leaking puss all in your hair.

Can I reiterate?  I was trying to eat.  If you have to pick at some kind of puss-filled head sore and then twirl your hair around in the excess, go out in the hall.  Better yet, seek help.

Gah, it makes me want to throw up just to type this.

Disgustedly,

Aunt B.

—–

Dear Plimco,

Holy shit!  I’d say more, but I don’t want to compromise your anonymity.  Still, wow, and holy shit.

You’ll have to tell me how your yodeling went. Did you have to yodel?

Love,

Aunt B.

7 thoughts on “Little Love Notes from B.

  1. Mouth full of half-chewed generic honey nut Cheerios. Spat out. That is nasty. Why did my letter have to be after Old Puss Man’s? Ugh.
    Umm, no. I didn’t have to yodel. I didn’t have to audition, actually. They had already cast the actors for the festival, just not who would be playing which role. Specific casting is still not complete for all of the pieces, but I was a little sort of… Adamant? Passionate? Convincing? When it came to my desire to be cast in that particular role. You know what I think pushed my director over the edge? When I quoted the playwright herself:
    “You have a beautiful voice. And you’re sexy as hell. Come on. The whole conceit of the play rests on the two characters being like a match and gasoline. Who in the world is more like that than you? You’re like Muddy Waters with a cooter.”
    I mean, who could dispute that? Did they really have any other choice than to cast me?

  2. What is it with old men and being disgusting? I was working out at the gym the other day, and there was this old man lying on the mats getting ready to do sit-ups in some really way too short jogging shorts. Next thing I know I glance over there and see his whole damn package hanging out the bottom of his shorts. Dear Old Man with Sagging Balls: Wear underwear to support yourself and spare the rest of us if you’re going to wear tiny jogging shorts. Perhaps if you had done this more often in the previous 69 years of your life, you wouldn’t be having this sagging problem in the first place. Love, Dr. J.

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