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A Letter: Pain and Loss

Dear Marjorie,

Your parents must have told you about all the crimes that courts have found me guilty of. I cannot deny what I have done nor can I justify them in any way. I understand that you must be deeply disappointed in me and would like to terminate our courtship but I beg you to listen to my side of the story and to understand what drove me to commit such heinous acts.

It was a warm Sunday afternoon and I had just returned from supervising work at my Fathers oatmeal factory. To unwind after a long day I would lie down on the king-size that I had installed on the balcony of our mansion and watch videos of cats playing pianos as the sun set. As you know I am a sophisticated gentleman so I do not use the in-built speakers of my laptop, always choosing to use Headphones instead. I had Mother buy me Sennheiser HD800 a very common model but I had mine gold plated and with my name engraved on it. Every day I would watch my cat videos and place the headphones on the table adjacent to the bed before going downstairs to sit in my father’s armchair and stroke our pet cat.

That day as I lay in bed with my laptop on my stomach my hands reached out to grab my headphones but I was shocked to only feel the cold surface my bedside table made from the wood of the endangered Hinton Oak. I searched the entire room but I couldn’t find them. I don’t remember much of what Happened in the hour following the realization that I could not enjoy a cat playing piano with my ridiculously expensive headphones, all I recall was lying flat on the ground staring at the ceiling. I must have been thinking during this time because I eventually concluded that one of the Servants had stolen the headphones no doubt to fuel their cocaine addiction. So, I called all the servants into my father’s study on the first floor and locked the door. The initial shock I had felt had worn off and was slowly turning into rage as I questioned each of them. None of them knew what happened to the headphones, neither did they know who could have possibly stolen them. One of them even had the gall to suggest that I use my laptops speakers. Such insubordination could not be tolerated so I hit her with a nearby copy of the combined works of Edgar Allan Poe. The official police report claims that I hit her about twenty seven times but I assure you I only hit her once. As she lay bleeding on the floor the other servants tried to run away, this was a clear indication that they had all been working together to make my life miserable by stealing the headphones. They tried to subdue me but I believe after I sunk my teeth into one of their throats and proceeded to tear it apart they gave up and began to run away. I do not remember what happened after that but the police claim that I murdered the rest of the servants then lit the house on fire to try and cover it up. I denied all the allegations that were leveled against me but deep down I knew that I had committed these crimes and I will have to live with this guilt for the rest of my life.

Now that you know my side of the story, you can understand that any man or woman in my position would have done the same thing.  Now, on a more serious note I cannot get married in the prison chapel for aesthetic reasons so, I must ask you to wait for about 30 years. A fellow prisoner has told me that I can erode the iron bars of the cell by urinating on it three times a day. He also told me dropping the soap in the shower repeatedly is a good way to exercise without being judged by other inmates i,it inst as good as my treadmill but you know how I can’t stand  public gyms so, I’ve decided to try it out tonight. Also please send thousand packets of Ramen turns out they are very valuable in here.

Yours truly,
Edmont Cunningham

Inmate C-16


This post first appeared on Danny's Feeble Attempts At Poetry, please read the originial post: here

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A Letter: Pain and Loss

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