Page 11 of Resting Scrooge Face
Dear Resting Scrooge Face,
I would like to address two major points in your last letter.
One. No matter what exterior you wear, what armor you don, what shield you possess, you are not exempt from falling in line with the rest of the conformists. Like I said before, we are preconditioned to talk about mating, fornication ... *winces* ... coitus. That’s in our blood, buried so deeply in our marrow that there’s no point in even trying to be rid of it. But here is the difference between us and others: we might live with this condition that subconsciously makes us chatter about coupling, but we are aware, we are responsible, and we have taken a solemn oath to not engage.
Two. You have stated you’re a man, which dissolves an aspect of anonymity, and therefore, I need to even the playing field. Let the record show ... I am a woman.
Sincerely,
Ho Ho No
Dear Ho Ho No,
Does that change things?
I’m a man.
You’re a woman.
Will the mistletoe-ians track us down and force their mating small talk on us? I’m worried about the inevitable. It’s a small town. People will wonder; people will yearn for the next ripe coupling to talk about.
I think in order to save ourselves, we need to do something drastic. Something that will straighten the spines of those hankering for some fresh meat on the dating market. I think you know what I’m about to say ...
We need to friend zone each other, right here and now. Make it known, Resting Scrooge Face and Ho Ho No hereby proclaim a mutual friend zone that forbids them from ever running into each other under the mistletoe.
Please confirm your agreement with this new plan.
Sincerely,
Resting Scrooge Face
Dear Resting Scrooge Face,
What a genius idea. Nothing screams celibacy with another human more than putting them in the friend zone. I would like to officially agree to this plan.
But in order for it to be valid, for us to truly be “friends,” I think we need to expand our knowledge of each other. So, I propose we offer three fun facts that maybe no one else knows. This way, we form an even more immediate bond than we already have, and if we ever are presented with a chance to talk about our friendship in public, we will have thoughtful things to say.
I will go first (hopefully you’re cool with this).
I have recently discovered that I prefer crab over lobster. Being that we live in Maine, along the lobster belt, I understand the audacity of this statement, but crab settles better with me, and in sort of a psycho way, I like cracking the legs. Side note: I’m not a psycho. Cracking crab legs is probably the kookiest thing I do.
When I was ten, I decided to dye my hair using blue Kool-Aid. I didn’t know what I was doing, so I just dipped my head in a bowl of it but didn’t consider that the Kool-Aid would dye my skin too. I had to walk around with a blue ring across my forehead.
I’m not proud of this, but I once went to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter and got in a fight with a twelve-year-old over a wand. He tried to zap me, so I zapped him back, tossed Butterbeer at his shoes, and bolted.
I think it’s important to show our dark sides, and the wand incident is a dark moment in my life.
Sincerely,
Ho Ho No
Dear Ho Ho No,
Being a Harry Potter fan myself, I can understand the deep-seated passion you might have when it comes to wands. Now the Butterbeer spillage, that might have been a bit uncalled for, given how expensive it is, but I can’t pass judgment.
As for me, I really put some thought into these, so I hope you learn a thing or two.
(1) I’ve never told anyone this, but every year since I was seven, I’ve picked a flower from my mom’s garden, pressed it, preserved it, and labeled it with the year I collected it. I have a whole book dedicated to the flowers. When my mom turns sixty, I’m going to give it to her.
