Daynotes on a budget

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December 14, 2000
My Dearest John;

Thank you ever so much for the lovely gift.  The partridge was sitting inside my front door when I came home from work, and is just adorable.  Where ever did you find it?  And the Pear Tree!  Oh, it's just so beautiful.  I love you so much.

All my love, Mary

December 15, 2000
Dearest John;

Oh, my, what lovely doves.  I guess the card says they're turtle doves, but they're beautiful.  They do tend to coo a lot, though, but they are pretty birds.  Thank you so much for them, and I hope to see you soon.

Love, Mary

December 16, 2000
Dear John;

When I came home from work tonight, the apartment office had another cage of birds for me.  These look like chickens or something, but the tag says "French Hens".  The Super tells me that if I'm going to start farming, it's a violation of my lease.  HaHaHa. 

Thanks so much for the birds, but could you please stop?  They're getting noisy and I'm running out of newspaper.

Love, Mary

December 17, 2000
Dear John;

Look, this is really too much.  Four calling birds?  These things sound like sirens in a hurricane.  The old lady above me came down to complain - she could hear them without her hearing aid.  I think she mumbled something about not being able to hear out of that ear since Roosevelt was president.  When I asked her which one, she yelled "TEDDY" at me while waving the knife.

Please, stop with the birds, already?

Sincerely, Mary

December 18, 2000
Dearest John;

Oh, the rings are beautiful.  And five big, fat, shiny gold ones, at that.  It almost makes up for the racket the birds are making.

Thank you so much, Love, Mary.

December 19, 2000
Dear John;

Back to the birds, again, eh?  These geese are big, nasty, ornery beasts.  They crap everywhere, and one even bit the mailman in the testicles.  I was sort of hoping it was you he'd bit.

Knock it off, please, would you?

Sincerely, Mary

December 20, 2000
Dear John;

Enough with the freaking birds already, OK?  For crying out loud, I've got sixteen of the things now, if you count the damned partridge.  And these damned Swans are honking and shitting all over the place.  The Super's going to have me evicted soon. 

Please, stop, already, would you?

Yours, Mary.

December 21, 2000
Dear John;

What the hell is the matter with you?  This morning I get awakened by eight women leading eight cows around.  Lovely.  Now I've got cowshit running in great rivers through my apartment, in addition to all the birdshit.  The damned maids are milking the cows and pouring it everywhere.  What doesn't smell like shit smells like sour milk.  One of the cows stomped on one of those damned doves, and now the other one's shrieking like a freaking broad in a hurricane.

Stop, or I will call the police on you.

Mary

December 22, 2000
John;

What the hell do you think you're doing?  I've got these women here now stomping, dancing, and jumping like idiots in my one-bedroom apartment.  One of them got her foot stuck in the toilet, and I had to call the plumber to get it out.  Half the birds have been stomped on, either by the dancing cows (some of these women are FAT), or the bovine variety.

Stop sending me gifts, or so help me, I will find you and make you pay...

Mary

December 23, 2000
John

Listen, dipshit, I have had it with this crap.  Now I've got ten jumping "lords".  My ass.  The only thing these guys are jumping are all of the women around here.  Let me tell you, some of these broads will never walk again.  They're banging away like a bunch of cheap cottage doors in a hurricane.  Luckily one of them finally stomped on the last goose, so we're finished with the birds.  However, all of the stress with all of the people has given most of the cows diarrhea, and there are great rivers of crap running down the stairs.  The Super served eviction papers on me this morning, and I've got 72 hours to get my stuff out of here.

Thanks, asshole.

Mary

December 24, 2000
Listen, you asshole;

I don't know what possessed you to send these idiots with bagpipes over here.  One look at them, and two of the girls up and died of fright.  You know what Scotsmen wear under their kilts.  And these guys are HUNG, man.  Even the cows are scared of them now.  You'd think they'd just gotten out of prison or something.  They'll ball everything that moves, and half the stuff that doesn't.  I've got three peckers over the fireplace so far.  That's three soprano pipers so far.  The next one that crawls into my bed in the middle of the night dies.  I hope it's you.

I will find you, if it takes to my dying day, and I will get you for this.  You bastard, you will die, you shit-eating creep.

Mary

December 27, 2000
Dear Mr. Johnson;

We at the law firm of Dewey, Cheatham, and Howe hereby inform you that you are being sued by our client, Mary Ann Marshall, late of 1212 Fourth Street.  On December 25, when your "final" delivery of the dozen men in military uniforms, banging on drums arrived, our client Ms. Marshall had to be forcibly removed and sedated.

Obviously we are seeking damages from you to pay her expected costs regarding the collapse of her apartment home, the resulting cleanup (you will find a preliminary estimate from the EPA attached), and her on-going health maintenance needs.

Just as obviously, we strongly encourage you not to attempt to contact our client.  In her more lucid moments, she repeatedly states her desire to find something, anything, and use it to kill you.  These fantasies of hers are most clear and specific in detail.  They've driven three of our less experienced associate lawyers into the parking lot of the rest home in tears.  As you have been warned in this letter that she is both of an unsound mind, and emotionally unstable, you are hereby advised that you and your heirs and assigns have no legal grounds to sue Ms. Marshall, her heirs or estate, should something go wrong.  After all, it is your fault.

Have A Nice Day - Dexter Howe, esq., for Dewey Cheatham, and Howe, llp.