Dear Sir/Madam/ Automated Telephone Answering Service,
Having spent the past twenty minutes waiting for someone at Morrow police station to pick up the telephone I have decided to abandon the idea and try emailing you instead. Perhaps you would be so kind as to pass this message on to you colleagues in Morrow by means of smoke signal, carrier owl or Ouija board.
Outside my home, this current moment, eleven failed medical experiments (youths?) Are currently deciding to disrupt my daily slumber. Three of them seem happy enough to constantly tango with a ball, kicking it against my iron gate with the force of a meteorite. This game has been prevailing for over a fortnight and is currently scoring 1000: 1001.
The remaining walking abortions are happily rummaging through my rubbish and items of furniture someone has so thoughtfully dumped beside my wheelie bins. One of them has found a chain saw and is setting about a discarded chair like a beaver on speed. I fear its only limited time before they notice the bottle of calor gas between the house and them.
If they could be relied to only blow there arms and legs off I would be happy to lead them to it, I would even go so far as to lend them the matches. Unfortunately, they are far more likely to blow up half the street with them and I've just finished furnishing the kitchen.
What I suggest the solution may be is that you send me a reply giving me worthless advise and assurence that the situation is being handled. Wait five months ( as you do) and come to my house the only day the hooligens are not there. I trust that when I take a claw hammer to the skull of one of these throwbacks you'll do me the same courtesy of giving me a four month head start before coming to arrest me.
I remain the obediant servant, Patrick McNonymous.
PS: I promise the only crimes or sins I have committed come to the total of two which are listed below.
My first sin is a religious crossing, I taught my son how to curse.
Me: Say daddy
Baby:Mummy
Me: Say daddy
Baby: Mummy
Me: F*ck you, say daddy
Wife: Honey, I'm home
Baby: F*ck you mummy
Wife: Who taught you how to say that?
Baby: Daddy
Me: Son of a b*tch!
The second one is not so much a religious flaw...
I get home one night to not just find my wifes two legs hanging from the end of the bed but another pair as well. Panicked, I quickly grabbed my baseball bat and hit them as hard as I could on the bed until I was satisfied. I went downstairs to find my wife sitting in the kitchen reading the news paper. She saw me and said : " Your parents arrived whilst you were at work today and I let them sleep in our room, did you say hello?"
* 500 word count for the actually letter. To maram_contests for the comedy contest. I hope you enjoy :-) *
