Yes, it was February best I can remember. Ah, beautiful sniffling February. Billy had just received a new red 3 speed bike for his birthday. Billy had overheard his parents speaking of his third grade class presidency bid and became angry at their poor opinion of his platform based around cold soup. Billy’s political aspirations were pure but misguided. He wanted to focus on one issue as had his idol Ronald Reagan years before when he asked the question, “Are you better off than you were four years ago?” However the question that Billy wanted to put forth, “How much cold soup did you drink last semester?” was just not going to cut it.
Yes, Billy decided to punish the buggers. Starting on February 1, Billy drank 1 gallon of milk per day. On February 27th Billy was finishing his second glass of milk for the day and found a live beetle near the bottom of the glass. Well that was that for Billy and milk......Meanwhile, my neighbor Jim “Spacefiller” Hoogstogle, his wife Betty Tiger, and their daughter Tess “Teacup” Hoogstogle passed the time playing “name bad chicken illnesses”......Oh, excuse me, I didn’t mean to let that get in the way of my end of 1997 update.
It’s been a beautiful year. This means it’s been a horrible year for a lot of other people. This is how I judge years. If life sucks for a lot of people, it must have been good for me. I traded in my favorite color red for a more trendy earth brown this year. Also I chipped a few peoples’ teeth. It had to be done. I briefly was filling in for a sick relative in the electric gadgets department of a local store and was put in charge of electric toothbrush demonstrations. It seems not everyone wants to try electric toothbrushes. I was forced to treat the duty much like snipe hunting by jumping from behind a clothing island while gently sliding the toothbrush into the customer’s mouth. Instead of being the success that I had imagined, it turned out to be an action that is more likely to get someone fired.
I continued my streak for weeks in a row without viewing the thriller “The Towering Inferno”. 1997 brought many important personal achievements for myself as well as the small Greek elves appointed to look after me. One of the elves which I will refer to only as Zorba “The Anonymous” was named by the Greene County Greek Elves Society as flute polisher of the year. After I learned of this honor, Zorba was promptly fired by me for noncompliance of our verbal agreement regarding moonlighting with woodwind instruments.
I learned a great many things in 1997. Not as many as in 1984, but it’s so much easier when you have a guide such as Mr. Orwell’s. I didn’t get ill the entire year. I think I can attribute this to the ingestion of large amounts of whiskey and bologna (The author can not however recommend this combination in tandem). At this point, I would like to point out that my psychic abilities have returned in 1997 after an absence of several years when I predicted that Milli Vanilli’s hair was in fact not real. If those of you who have a copy of last year’s letter will now refer to it as proof, you will notice that I sort of predicted a teamster’s strike which would render fruit undeliverable. Eerie huh?
Since this is the case, I would now like to make a prediction for 1998. I hereby pronounce that this year two Middle Eastern countries will have a near conflict over use of the phrase “now with freshness” on their respective national flags. This year I cooked and cooked and cooked. Then I realized that the burner had not yet been turned on. Then it was March. The leaves began to leap from the ground back onto the trees and the double jointed birds pecked at each other backwards.
Then in June it was warm. Too warm, so I turned on the air conditioner. Then August came and after heavy thought I decided to continue use of the air conditioner. Next was October. Some days I used the heater in my car. I considered moving to the mall for a more stable environment. Well I guess that’s why they call it the “Show Me” state. I would however like to amend the slogan, and with your support maybe I can. I would like the slogan to read “Missouri, can I see your receipt?” I guess the time has come again to say goodbye for another year. Here’s wishing that this year none of us shrink like in that movie.
R.I.P. Mother Theresa, the world will miss you.
Love and more progress,