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The Rotten Mother

Dear John

 

Saturday Centus. 102 words on "Dear John".

 

Dear John,

The wanton destruction of your digging up my rhododendron bush was unforgivable.

Your shredding of my new Persian?  (Accidental or not…..) Entirely unnecessary.

But today; today you have truly cut me to the quick.  Today you dared turn up your nose at my practically famous Shepherd’s Pie.

John, my Shepherd’s Pie is well known from here to Bakerville.  It is hungered after by better than you.  It has been frozen, thawed, rewarmed, and even topped with Creole seasoning and jalapeño peppers.

It is delicious in every perceivable fashion.

You sir, are no gastronome.

You are a dawg.

Sincerely,

The Mistress

 

IOSW2

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