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Letter to Home
Dear Mom:
Hello! From the big city! How are things back home? Is Dad stillcalling you by other womens' names? How are your Yo–Yo lessons coming?Have you tried using string? Is uncle Mort finally over his little problemor does he still hang out at the SPC on Saturday nights? I'm enclosingmoney for twelve sets of dentures so you can all go to Bingo together.
Well, I've got to tell you—these big city folks sure are a friendlypiece a work. I was walking down the street the other day when a whole herdof young fellas gathered all around me and started complimenting my jacket.They all seemed so excited to see me. I wonder how they knew I was from outof town? Could it have been the platform shoes?
Anyhow, it seems the fellas got a little carried away, meeting astranger and all. I don't remember much after the first few minutes but Istill can't figure out how that hammer mark wound up between my eyes. WhenI came to it was a little confusing. I guess the boys wanted a few mementoesof their meeting me. Let's see—they got my jacket, my boots, my wallet, myring, my watch, my pants, my partial plate and 12 gold fillings. I lookeddown and saw two little old ladies trying to untie my shorts. They didn't seem to mind though. They just kept smiling and one of them started singing"Some Enchanted Evening".
The new job is going just fine here although the money's not too good.Being a stand–up comic in a soup kitchen has always been a secret dream ofmine but working for tips has its drawbacks. Could you tell me how to gettobacco juice spit stains out of my hair? Anyway, my part–time job keeps mein Kraft Dinner and bus tokens. I got hired as a professional sparringpartner with a local boxing gym...thank God the ad said, "No ExperienceNecessary." Lucky or what? It's saved me a fortune already. The ownerslet me sleep at the club so I don't have to rent an apartment. Just beforeclosing time, they always put me up against a heavyweight with an attitudeproblem. Usually don't wake up till next morning. They even let me do someextra work. Their punching bag split last month and ever since they justtie me to the rafters and let the boys wail away on me. Sort of reminds meof the Legion back home.
Anyhow, I got to go. My date's at the door. You gotta meet her.Six–foot–five, 280 pounds and her name is Bob. Must be short for Roberta.The strange thing is she shaves more often than I do and she never sits downto pee. Tonight's really special—Bob is planning to tell me this "like,really big" secret of hers. Don't you just love surprises?
Bye for now!
© 1997, Fred Desjardins
About the author:
Age: 45
Status: Remarried
Children: 2
Sex: Occasionally
I've been a professional freelancer for almost 12 years although most ofthose years it did not make up a lion's share of the income. I've donemanagerial work, government and private teaching positions but I now am afull–time freelancer. I write, primarily, humor but the money in thisbusiness is so hard to come by that it's essential to be eclectic, assumingof course that You've made the reasoned decision that eating is a good thing.
I did a lot of work in radio, mostly writing funny commercials and I waseditor of the infamous national magazine, "Canadian Crime & Justice" whichwas featured as a sight gag on Roseanne a few years ago. Only Americans getthe joke because we don't know how we're perceived but it was the jokeequivalent of the stereotype of a Swedish boxer. You just know that theSwedish ad companies are paying big bucks to put ads on the soles of thisguy's shoes.
Education: B.A. (Psychology), Master's of Education (CurriculumDevelopment)—A perfect educational recipe for life–long underemployment.
I'm a member of the Periodical Writers Association of Canada—a, somewhataugust organization up here (In the sense that it was started by some of thefinest writers in the country and continues to have many fine writers. Theproblem is that a lot of these incredibly creative and talented people areforced to write corporate end–of–year statements and similar technical workto make a decent living. Writers are treated with very little respect inthe publishing community and my group is trying to change that and with it,the money that comes with more respect.
End of Sermon
Oh yeah, and, I'm like, Canadian, eh? So I drink a lotta beer. I mean, mybladder is the strongest muscle in my body. And you don't have to worrythat we think you're taking us over or anything because everyone knows itanyway. Just let us keep our name and our bad football and the world's worst national anthem.Way ta go, eh? Beauty!
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©Margie Culbertson
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