photo by: misoserious.com
Dear Aunt Helen,
Donna, the girl who sits next to me at my office, is driving me crazy! For months all she talked about was how she wanted to get engaged, and kept showing people her dream ring on adiamondisforever.com. Well over Christmas she got engaged and now all she talks about is her wedding! Her flowers, her venue, her menu her dress! It’s so annoying. The worst part is, I am getting married too, in the same month. Donna and her fiance have a lot more money than I do, and now I feel like anytime I bring up MY wedding it just gets drowned out in talk about Donna’s spectacular wedding. This morning I got so angry that I planted some steamy fake emails from a fictional guy on her email and texted erotic messages sent from a fake number to her cell phone! Afterward, I emailed her boyfriend from her email account (I hacked into her computer during the dead of night with the help of an MIT comp-sci. student) and wrote a letter that hr boyfriend will think is from her. In it she gives him access to her email account. He will be unable to resist checking it which will lead him to see the emails and learn about the sexy text messages (which I alluded to in the email). After being so grossly betrayed by the woman he loves he will have no choice but to dump her,and commit suicide which will shut her up about the wedding. My question is does this qualify as a Bride War? Or does she have to do something to me, too?
Prenuptial in Poughkipsee
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When I read your letter, a light bulb went off in my mind. “Brides” I thought. “Bride….Bridal…BRIDLE!!” And suddenly I remembered! I threw down my bottle of whiskey water, climbed out of the tub and left the house dressed only in a coat that one of my neighbors had left laying about on a hook outside their apartment. I raced full tilt down the street ,across the park and over to the stables. With relief I saw that he was still there, in the exact same spot where I had tied him up over twelve years ago; my precious horse, Flashdance.
He had earned his name when he was only a foal, for the skittish jerking “dance” he would perform every time he saw a flash of lightning. He had been given to me as a Groundhog Day present by a Amir Jamil Jamal, a lesser Arabian Prince whose eye I had caught at a “Save Capitalism, Now!” fundraiser in Monaco. Prince Amir had been so dazzled by my dancing and my free-spirited ways that he sent a bottle of champagne and a glass jar filled with strawberries to my hotel room that evening. Feeling rather thirsty I downed the bottle immediately, and was only able to consume two of the strawberries before taken a sudden and abrupt nap on the floor of my closet, stark naked but for my veiled hat and stockings. Had I managed to retain consciousness a little longer, I would have seen the note on the tray stating that he was waiting for me in the rooftop pool. Lesser Arabian Prince’s are nothing if not steadfast and the poor thing was out there waiting for me for several hours and as a result caught quite a serious case of hypothermia. I left Monaco before he was released from the ICU but as soon as he was well enough, he sent me the horse.
Even twelve years later Flashdance was a vision in brown fur. A little thin perhaps, but that’s the fashion these days, I’m told. He whinnied as I approached and I offered him a handful of gumdrops, a bag of which I found inside the pocket of the coat i was wearing. He ate them quickly and whinnied for more. I am very serious about discipline for animals as well as people and so I I shook my head. “Not until you earn them” I said, as I untied him from the fencepost and climbed on his back. He groaned under my weight and began to stagger awkwardly across the floor of the ring. Despite my cries and pats on the side he refused to work up to a gallop and instead whinnied and whined. Perhaps he sensed that I was cold, tired and should go home for my next nap. I climbed off him and tied him to a post. He looked at me quizzically, as if to say “when will you return?”
“Soon, my pet! I cried, “I will see you before the last of these are gone!” and leaving the remainder of the gumdrops at his feet I turned and walked away.