“Your proud, round, sun-kissed belly reminds me of some rolls I made once. They were so warm, and buttery. They were fragrant and sweet, and they tasted like love. Now, my mouth is watering and I don’t know how to feel about that….”
Tag: open letters
In an open letter to the old over-tanned ladies discussing men in Speedos,
“It was the word Speedo that got my attention. However, it was the phrase ‘balls just a hangin’ that made me put my book down do that I could laugh fully and completely.”
In an open letter to all of these old people in bathing suits,
“The writer in me is being overwhelmed with the many similes that are appropriate to describe these many textures.”
In an open letter to the older intoxicated lady encountered at the gas station,
“I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but that was my breast you just patted….”
In an open letter to the young man in the Uhaul who backed into someone’s car in a seven lane intersection,
“You leave me both speechless and recommitted to the virtues of defensive driving.”
In an open letter to the innocent man standing in front of me in line,
“I hate it when people stand too close to me in line, but for some reason I am stricken by the desire to be predator, not prey. I want to stand so close that your hind quarters feel unprotected and vulnerable. But I won’t, because that’s creepy….”
In an open letter to her blender,
“Did you enjoy your little bath this morning? I wanted you to feel fresh before I take you on the road. You see, I’ve become rather accustomed to enjoying a daily smoothie, and bringing you with me is the best way to make this likely.”
In an open letter to her phone,
“You are a constant reminder of my interests and proclivities. Today, for instance, when I decided to look for some information about The Doobie Brothers, I was greeted by the results of my images search for Huel Perkins….”
In an open letter to her jilted novel,
“I have to admit that you were a convenient receptacle for my basest and most reprehensible thoughts. You loved it when I let pretty words dance together in order to describe something disgusting. That’s all you’re getting out of me….”
In an open letter to a baguette,
“The things we did together this morning made me think of you all day long. I imagined peeling back your paper. I waited for the moment when my teeth would tear through your crackly exterior. Save some for tomorrow morning….”