Dear Children at Library,
Yes, I understand. The story about the hippopotamus making friends with the bird is one of the greatest stories of our time. It surpasses many famous works of literature, namely Ulysses, Trainspotting, The BFG and Hamlet with its surprising depth of characters and breathtakingly simple sentences.
I understand. I truly do. I used to be like you, in fact — shitting myself without a care in the world, because I knew that the spongy, absorbent net under my ass would catch the faeces to be admired by my parents at a later time. I would be fed with a spoon that would magically turn into an aeroplane. Previously, it was nipples that sustained me. I didn’t have to work, or pay taxes.
Alas. How time passes.
Now, could you please keep the fucking noise down while I study for my exams?
Regards,
Q
Matt Querzoli was inspired to write this for obvious reasons. Follow his writing blog, his letters to strangers blog or his blog blog if you liked the post, or even the bloke himself if this tickled your proverbial pickle.
