Straitjacket: V-17X – Page 10

Full Creative License

Dear Lex,

I trust this letter finds you well. Let me just cut to the chase. I don’t know what to do about these fencers in my backyard. They showed up three days ago and they’ve returned each day since. I’m looking at them from my kitchen window right now, and my blood is boiling. Nowhere on my property does it say “Fencers Welcome”. I’ve tried to shoo them away, doing everything short of calling the cops (yelling at them, throwing rocks, threatening their families, etc.). You know that I don’t want to drag the authorities into this if I don’t absolutely need to.

Look, these fencers aren’t exactly wreaking havoc (aside from wearing down my lawn with their lunging), I’m more concerned with the principle of the thing. How would they like it if I decided to practice my golf game on their lawn without being invited?

I know you have methods for getting rid of unwanted pests, so I feel compelled to ask you for a favor. Before you object, just remember who pulled the strings to get your dog into the best obedience school in the state. I don’t care how you do it, I just want those fencers never to appear on my property again. You have full creative license on this one. I’ll even sweeten the deal. If you take care of this nuisance, I’ll buy you dinner at that new gastropub downtown. I know how much you like hipster food.

Love,

Edna

Too Many Oxen

Dearest Mr. Farthington,

I write to you because I have too many oxen these days, and I am unable to sell them off. The market has really taken a turn on livestock sales, and I can’t keep taking care of all of them without slowly pawning off my more valuable possessions (a headshot signed by Mickey Mantle, a baseball signed by Mickey Rooney, a gold-plated casserole dish, to name a few).

Soon it will come to pass that I need to sell off a portion of my land just to get by, so I have no choice but to put a number of my oxen up for adoption. They’re very well-mannered, and can do some serious heavy lifting. They’re not used to being treated as beasts of burden, as I’ve spoiled them a fair bit. If you know anybody with a pasture and a loving home who may be looking for oxen, please let them know that my animals will make great companions who don’t need much entertaining other than the occasional puppet show.

Thank you for your kind consideration–

Sincerely,

Jedediah Buckton

Inanimate Dingo Friend

I thrifted a dingo from a local wildlife sell-off emporium; the fella had a cartridge for a brain. Wild this dingo was not, likely built by an animal replicator to decorate the grasslands, pre-programmed to bark at sudden movements. I took out the cartridge with care, blew into it and replaced it. The only change I noticed was a small tick that popped off every thirty seconds or so. I removed the cartridge once more and got the inside with a moist cotton swab. This time the dingo froze completely, and I took it back for a full refund, only to learn that all sales are final. My inanimate dingo friend now stands in the living room, staring at the TV.

More Tambourine

Jimmy, Telly and Cliff stand in front of Jimmy’s open garage, stiff after hauling car parts around. “We need more tambourine,” Jimmy said with exasperation.

Telly looked at Jimmy quizzically. “We don’t have a tambourine.”

“What kind of a band doesn’t have a tambourine?”

“We’re not a band.” Telly snuffed out his cigarette with his boot. “We’ve been selling used car parts out of the back of your truck for six years.”

“Well, I’m tired of this arrangement. Can’t a guy form a band around here anymore? I have a perfectly good garage to practice in, we just need to exchange our used car parts for instruments and we’ll be set. I’m thinking rockabilly.”

Telly hates being the voice of reason. “This is just like the time you got the brilliant idea to start a petting zoo in your back yard. Remember how the coyote ate all the rabbits and you shot Cliff in the arm when you tried to kill it?”

“This is not just like that.” Jimmy sincerely believes what he’s saying. “The only weapon I’ll need this time is my axe for jamming in our rockabilly band. Come on, let’s do it.”

“Not this time, Jimmy. Fool me twice, shame on you. Fool me three times, shame on me.”

“I’m with Telly on this one,” says Cliff.

“Shut up, Cliff,” Jimmy and Telly exclaim in unison.

Pass the Broccoli

“This town doesn’t have any eggplant! I’m seriously considering leaving. Everybody here’s been suckered in by the big broccoli lobby, with all their damn grant money and infrastructure improvements. What’s the point of new roads, rapid transit and a new high school if you’re giving up your right to eat eggplant, squash, cucumbers, anything that’s not this god-forsaken broccoli menace? Big broccoli has ruined our town. Let’s go, you guys.”

Geraldo’s plea has fallen on deaf ears. Everybody around the table does their best to avoid eye contact.

“Who’s coming with me?” Still no eye contact. “Anyone? All right, fine, you cowards. Can’t someone at least call my bluff? Jesus Christ, fine, I’m not leaving. I just really want some goddamn eggplant.” Geraldo heaves a long and heavy sigh. “Pass the broccoli, would ya?”

Common Sense

I stand on the borderland between city and desert, not sure which is less appealing. I turn to my right and look down at the rabbit next to me. “Where should I go?”

“Well, I live in the desert, so you’re welcome to come with me. I’m only going about a mile that way.” The rabbit motions straight forward with a deliberate nod of its head.

“A mile? I don’t know if my shoes are suitable for walking in the sand that long. My apartment is only two blocks behind us, if you don’t want to make the trek to your place right now.”

“Thank you for the offer, but it’s time that I head home. If you’re not coming with me, I’d like to bid you adieu. If you’re ever in my area, come on over and we can talk about life some more.

“I’d like that.” The rabbit begins the journey back to the spot of desert it calls home, and I stand watching until it hops over the top of the closest sand dune. I turn around and look at the city. I immediately notice the soggy cigarette butts left around before it rained last night. Did the desert see any of that rain? Common sense would say yes, but common sense doesn’t allow for a dialogue with a rabbit.

Sitting Idle

“I have a climbing rope set up in my backyard if you want to try it.” Sitting at the kitchen table has become difficult for Tracy. Time sitting idle is time wasted.

Fred is taken aback, as he’s been having a perfectly nice time sitting in conversation at the kitchen table. It’s a lovely breakfast nook, the sun streaming in through the window and warming his shoulder. “I’ve never been much for climbing ropes, ever since grade school gym class. My teacher wasn’t very understanding of my lack of upper body strength.”

Tracy has to work off the coffee he just drank in some way, so he keeps pursuing the rope scenario, even if just to walk outside and look at the setup. “Well, this rope has knots in it, so it’s more like a ladder than anything.”

Fred has become wary of Tracy’s ploy to evacuate the house, and he’s not fond of this possibility. “I should have just mentioned right off the bat that I don’t like heights. Even if I could successfully maneuver my way up your rope, I’d be frozen at the top and you’d have to call the fire department to get me down.” This is a lie.

“I somehow doubt that you’re telling the truth, but I won’t pressure you anymore to climb the rope. I just figured it would be a fun activity.”

“What’s the rope hanging from, anyway?” Fred wants to keep the conversation going, preferably without leaving this toasty nook. Doesn’t Tracy understand how comfortable it is in here?

“I have a giant tripod set up, with the rope hanging from the center. It’s pretty nifty. Would you at least be okay with me climbing the rope once or twice?” Here’s an opening! Surely Fred won’t object to this.

“What, am I boring you?”