In honour of Candy*’s visit, this Travesty Tuesday post is a postcard that I wrote to Candy’s mother. Last June Candy came to visit for a couple of days. In this correspondence I was petitioning that she be allowed to visit again this past Christmas. Ultimately my December campaign was unsuccessful, something about New York being more exciting than making cider with your cousin.
Dear Aunty Camelia**, Dec’12
I’m very sorry I told Candy where babies come from. Please let her visit me over Christmas, I promise not to do it again.
In my defense, she thought you had to pluck the arm hairs off of adorable children you liked and then plant the hairs in the ground for a fetus to develop like an oddly shaped potato. I thought my explanation might get her into less trouble than this.
– The Great Unwashed
*Names have been changed to protect the identities of those who don’t actually believe that children grow in the ground like carrots.
** Names of adults who may not appreciate their children being exploited for the purposes of my blog have been changed in the hopes that maybe they won’t recognize themselves and force me to eat puffed rice in lieu of popcorn for the rest of my life. That bowl of round, puffy rice remains the weirdest movie snack that I’ve ever consumed. Although seeing as Aunty Camelia sampled my beet cookies, we may be even in the “Forcing Strange Foods Upon Distant Relatives Game”.