Dear mockingbird singing outside my open window last night:
It’s possible you overhead us complimenting you on your pretty singing
yesterday evening, but believe me, that was not a request for an all
night serenade. Or maybe me playfully whistling back at you for
several minutes was some kind of insult, or perhaps I got in the
middle of a mating ritual. (Just so you know, I don’t go that way.)
I’m happy to see spring arrive as much as the next person, but please,
enough is enough. There was a five or ten minute period around 3:30
a.m. where I seriously thought I might go insane. Go bother the
neighbors tonight: I have a pellet gun and a cat, and I’m not afraid
to use them.
Dear cow-orker who left the fresh snapper filet in the fridge over the
holiday weekend:
I don’t say this very often, but **** you. Not because you forgot and
left the fish in the fridge, but because you didn’t have the balls to
‘fess up or the courtesy to clean up your own mess. We know Mikey
brought in seven filets last Wednesday, and we know whom he gave them
to. Be prepared for a little something nasty festering behind your
heaviest file cabinet.
FOAD,
--
QueBarbara
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