Dear Thurston,

I ate your Pit Bull.  I apologize from the depths of my stomach.  It’s only that I had not eaten in over a week and he attacked me as I was scrounging around for food in the dumpster behind the factory where they make the ammunition over on 3rd street. I nailed his dog tags to the telephone pole on the corner of Chatsworth and Safehaven St. I know you like to hang there.  I put his well roasted bones by your back door in a liquor bottle box so you can give them a proper burial. I don’t know if it was my hunger or if he was of a particular breed but he was exceptionally delicious.  Do not be angry with me, I only shot him once in the head in self defense.  I then thought, considering I was so hungry, why should I let all this precious meat just lay there and rot like a dog in the street.  Apparently, I have now acquired a taste for this particular breed of dog.  Perhaps it is something in their aggressive nature which makes them so tasty. Then again it may just be my distinctive grilling technique.  If perchance you decide to replace Monger with another Pit Bull, I will purposely taunt it in self defense again.  One thing is for certain, I can always count on my hunger to return.  If you had owned a playful dog like a Labrador or a Poodle, I can assure you that you would be enjoying their undying companionship right now instead of preparing to dig a hole in your back yard to bury vicious Monger’s bones.

Sincerely your next door neighbor,

Ted

P.S. Keep your shovel handy.

© 2-13-12 David L. Nelson & Ironworks Publishing