The First Day of Christmas
Oh darling–you sentimental, wonderful fool! I can’t tell you how surprised and delighted I was when they delivered the Partridge in a Pear Tree. I rushed out and bought the best cage I could find. I just hope the tree lives until spring.
With all my love, Agnes
The Second Day of Christmas
My Dear Tom:
The Two Turtle Doves are adorable! I had to go out and buy another cage ($38.50), but they are worth it. I am sure I will get used to the cooing.
All my love, Agnes
The Third Day of Christmas
Sweetheart, you truly are generous–Three French Hens. I just bought the last bird cage in town and I think the last bag of bird seed. I had to use my Mastercard, but I have three months to pay it off. Tom, I think they are just great, but don’t you think six birds are a bit much for my little four room house?
The Fourth Day of Christmas
They delivered the Four Calling Birds this morning. They are beautiful to look at, but do you know how much noise they make? Now really Tom, enough is enough.
The Fifth Day of Christmas
What a surprise! Five Golden Rings. One for each finger! I would be so happy–if only those birds would shut up. They are starting to get on my nerves.
The Sixth Day of Christmas
Back to those damn birds again, are we? When I got home, Six Geese were laying all over my front steps. They are HUGE! Where the hell will I put them? I can’t sleep and the Smiths next door are complaining. Please stop.
The Seventh Day of Christmas
What the hell is with you and the damn birds??! Seven Swans a Swimming? My house stinks like a zoo. I spend all day cleaning up bird poop. The RUCKUS!
The Eighth Day of Christmas
Mr. Tom Acker:
I prefer the birds. What the hell do I do with Eight Maids a Milking in a four room house with 23 birds? My backyard is 40 x 30. Imagine what eight cows did to a yard that size.
Back off, Tom.
The Ninth Day of Christmas
Tom Acker, you numskull:
What, are you some kind of sadist? Nine Pipers are Piping, slipping on guano, chasing maids around the house. The birds are squawking their heads off. I am going crazy! Oh, and the Smith’s landscaping was destroyed by the cows–they are circulating a petition to evict me.
You’ll get yours. Agnes
The Tenth Day of Christmas
You call that dancing? Ten Ladies knocked over all the bird cages. The cows are squashing the birds. Those damn geese laid eggs all over my bed. The health department subpoenaed me to give cause why my house should not be condemned.
The Eleventh Day of Christmas
Listen you son of a bitch:
Eleven Lads a Leaping on all those maids and ladies! Now all 23 birds are dead–trampled to death in the orgy.
I hate your guts. A. Jones
The Twelfth Day of Christmas
I’ll kill you.
Twelve Drummers Drumming–the house sounds like a football game during a thunder storm. I got picked up for running a brothel—the cops hauled in all 51 of us while the cows rampaged through the neighborhood. Last I saw, the Smiths were firing up blow torches. If I ever get out of this mess, I’m coming for you, you dirty #$*@*%&.
No good *#$&%@, you.
#3564578, c/o the State Penitentiary