These are all our thoughts in word form. Not to be confused with our thoughts in worm form. Those look like this.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

A Christmas Letter by Robert Holiday

With the holiday season in full swing, I thought I would share the Christmas letter my cousin mailed us last year. We don’t know to expect one this year, but we always like hearing from her. -R. H.

Hey Guys,

To my knowledge, Christmas letters are not a tradition in our family, and to be clear, I’m not out to make it one. As family traditions go, I know nothing can replace the Holy Day of Obligation to Play Nude Racket Ball. But because I am living away from home, I thought it would be appreciated.

I’m clueless how these are written, but I will start by saying that last Christmas was a good Christmas. I was glad to finally introduce Henry to the family and that everyone was accepting of him. He said he felt welcome, despite Uncle Ben swatting him on the ass with peppermints and calling him “candy ass.” I explained it was our family’s humor. Knowing that made him feel better.

Even after a year of giving thanks, I do not think I can be thankful enough to mom, for gifting me the dildo I wanted. It was my favorite stocking stuffer. The floating pen Holly gave me I keep at my desk and use whenever the printer is out of ink. Grandma and Grandpa gave two bags of unshelled nuts. One is all gone, the other I’ve saved. They were superior quality, as far as I am able to judge, and I sometimes use them to entertain guests.

The weather here has been nice. I told myself I would never get used to six seasons a year and 48-hour periods of darkness, but I was wrong. School has been good and I’m making many new friends. Saturdays, I take community classes to learn brail. I hope to one day achieve my childhood dream of novelizing all Bill Murray’s movies into brail. I think somewhere in the back of her mind, mom thinks I do nutty college things, like skip class, play drinking games, or attend orgiastic picnics. Nothing could be farther from the truth. I’m studious and self-contained. It’s how I earned my nickname, “sword swallower.”

Henry and I welcomed a new edition into our fold. I’m speaking of our ferret, Humbert. It’s been six months and we still don’t know what he eats or where he goes to the bathroom.

You’ll notice what will appear to be an obscene amount of postage attached to this letter.


Your little Amelia

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