THANKSGIVING TRIFECTA – PART TWO
Dear Mr. Kurt Niesman
All I can say in this moment is: How Dare You. How dare you crush me in such an obvious way? There I was, peacefully minding my own business, nonchalantly hanging out with friends trying not to be swallowed up whole. I am a busy lady with many affairs to attend to, most importantly of which is the green bean casserole that I have not yet not only not made, but have not even procured the ingredients for, yet am wholly expected to show up toting to the the Thanksgiving celebration that I am attending tomorrow with my family at the ungodly hour of 2pm.
Do you even realize what you have done? I mean really. Really? Are you so cold that you didn’t even consider that a Canadian Children’s Choir performing one of the all time greatest Stevie Nicks suites wouldn’t do anything but gut me to the core? Did you think that me excusing myself from the bar long before last call was some kind of carte blanche for you to send me home with the arduous task of digging through unalphabatized Rubbermaid containers for a CD I am sure I own by none other than one of the greatest gifts of song that mankind has ever been issued? Did you just choose to ignore the fact I retired early because I already knew I was going to spend an hour of my short life, if not more, wholeheartedly typing the contents of my head? And on the eve of such a joyous celebration nonetheless? You, Sir, if I can even refer to you as such, show a mean hand and I for one will not be fooled again by your boyish good looks.
Defiantly, I present you with Song 21b. May God shine his undying mercy upon your soul.
Sincerely your “friend”