Dear Mrs Givller,
I am writing to ask if I could, one day, come round to mow your front lawn.
The lengthy grass is spoiling my view.
I do not understand why I should have to suffer, when you are completely capable of mowing the grass anyway…I did come round your house earlier today but you were to busy napping on the floor. The position you were in almost gave the impression you collapsed.
One time my friend got extremely drunk and fell asleep with his leg out a window of a car. When he woke up it was broken.
This is why I am against drinking, no person should have to change their behaviour in order to feel relaxed/have an exciting/fun time/day with their friends/enemies.
Unless you are a rapist-murderer.
I don't think you are.
I also noticed there was some blood dripping from your head when I went over to your house. But your eyes were open, so I know it wasn't that bad.
One time I hit my knee, right on the nerve, really hard and I shut my eyes so tight, because of the pain and I burst a blood vessel.
That was worse than the time that I broke both my hands because I didn't use my thumbs for the whole day, purely to see if I could.
I couldn't pick up the rake ( I was going to go round your house and ask to collect the leaves that had blown on to your lawn, because it was spoiling my view), so I tried to pick it up with my foot, then it sprang back in my face and I went flying backwards and landed on both my wrists.
I had to wait until someone came round to get help because, obviously, I couldn't dial the phone or open the door.
The grass is so long that I actually can't see into your window anymore. Not that I did regularly.
I remember when you used to sit there and pull faces at me, like making one half of your face drop, and then let your arms go all floppy…
Do you remember that I did the same back?
How is your husband? Is he dead?
I can't really picture his face anymore, which is a shame… I used to really like him, he was a lot nicer than you.
An example of this is, that even though I am 21, he used to still give me sweets when I saw him in the street. Sherbet lemons, I never liked them.
While meanwhile, you come round my house and make me look after the cat every time you go to your see your son who lives 30 minutes away.
The cat hates me.
It used to claw me so deep that I got scars. And when I get tanned, I look like a tiger.
Admittedly it has calmed down now.
Now it just coughs up fur balls into my cups of tea.
How old is it? I want to know how long it will be before it dies.
Anyway, if you can get back to me as soon as possible, preferably straight after your nap, that would be great.
Now, I must get on with my job interviewing how fun it is. Yawn.
Sincerely, Doug Lark.