March 14, 10 NE (Candy)
Dear Gunther,
How could I NOT read your letters in the voice of Foghorn Leghorn? You're a ridiculous southern gentleman. I'm surprised you aren't out looking for a chicken hawk.
It's been three months now since I've heard from you because of all this damn winter nonsense. Do you know Alexandria has a radio? And so does the Hilltop and Oceanside. But Eugene says it's 30 mega something HF or some gobbledygook I don't understand, but the point is it won't reach all the way to Jamestown. So I've had to wait all this time for my juicy gossip. There ought to be plenty you can share with me by now.
Connie and Carlos? What's happened since the mistletoe kiss? I saw he sent a letter to Michonne at the end of December, but she didn't say anything about it. Are those two fucking yet? Not that Carlos would brag if they were, but I bet you can tell. You can always tell when a man's getting laid. Well, at least I can. But I bet you could find out for me. Let me know. I have GOT to know. I don't know why Michonne didn't jump on that man like white on rice. That's not racist is it? To say white on rice about a black person? Should I say like pepper on grits? Except Carlos is brown and grits are white. Well, damnit, I don't know. I'm not good with the metaphors like you. And I don't like pepper on my grits anyway. A little salt and butter is all they need.
Little Gunther's doing just fine except he's still having to be treated for his club foot, poor little thing. I feel so bad about, it too. It's probably because I drank before I knew I was pregnant. But I quit as soon as I knew. I swear I did. And I'd been drinking a lot less, too, even before I knew. Poor sweet Eugene, he tried to make me feel better about it, he said a club foot could be genetic, and his daddy had a clubfoot, so Gunny probably got it from Eugene's side. (That's what we've been calling him. Gunny. We didn't mean to but it just kind of came out and there it is now.) And then I didn't know whether I should remind Eugene the baby isn't his or not. The baby kind of looks like him, you know, black hair and all. Maybe he forgot.
Anyway, Dr. Sid (I just call him Sid, I can spell that man's name) is taking Gunny's cast off today, and then he has to do something where he cuts the heel tendon. I don't think I can take it. That poor baby's going to cry his little head off. Eugene said he'd stay with him for it and I can just go somewhere else and cover my ears. Eugene's sweet as sugar like that. Then after Dr. Sid cuts that, he's going to put him in another cast, and he'll be in that for three more weeks while the tendon regrows. Then Gunny should be all set and be able to walk later when the time comes.
Eugene is driving me crazy with all his times and schedules. Gunther, you have no idea. He makes a chart and records it every time the baby shits. I kid you not. And then he makes graphs tracking the time between feedings and shittings. And then he weighs the baby every single day and plots its growth on a piece of graphing paper. I swear to God and all that is holy that I am not making any of this up. I don't know how to make him stop. I guess I shouldn't bother. It makes him feel useful, and he is really helpful. He gets the baby from the cradle the second it cries and brings him to me to feed and changes his diaper and gets him back to sleep after feeding. I swear, I don't have to get out of bed at all at night.
But Eugene's going to have to let up at some point, because he's got to put more time into the Battery Project. He's a smart cookie, my Eugene. I thought he was just bullshitting about all that science stuff, because you know, rumor is he made up something about being a part of a top secret project when this all started. But he actually knows this stuff! I mean, not about how we got all these cannibals, but about making batteries. And what he doesn't know he learns by tinkering and teaching himself from books. I think we might actually have something by May if I can get him to spend more time doing that and less time tracking Gunny's shits.
Hey, do me a favor and tell Andrew to get his head out of his ass. From the last letter I got from Trisha in December, it sounds like he hasn't been helping her with Little John hardly at all. He's just the king of his castle and expecting her to do everything at home, and here she was talking about going back to work at the tavern on New Year's Eve, too. I thought he was going to support her for a year, buy her rations until the baby is bigger. What's the point of fucking him if he's not going to do that? Is she working full-time now? If she is, Andrew damn well better start doing more around the hut! My Eugene is a godsend when it comes to that.
Okay, when you write back, make sure I get the gossip. I need the 411 on not only Carlos and Connie but on Thomas and Kingdom Kelly. Are they fucking yet? Well, she just had the baby in December, right? So they probably aren't fucking right now, but are they close to fucking? Is Slingshot Kelly fucking anyone yet? Anyone get knocked up lately? What about Sarah? Santiago can't keep pulling out forever, I'm sure. Do you think Linda and Joe will ever get married? Did Melissa come see Seaman Reedus again on the March mailboat? I heard a rumor that made its way here from Hilltop that Magna and Tara were fucking in December when Tara went for that diplomatic visit, but I didn't know if that was just some kind of male fantasy that made it through the grapevine or if it really happened. So I need some juicy gossip on that one too. Give me all the good gossip, Gunther, or what are you good for?
Say hello to Dianne for me. You know you're lucky she's not the jealous type, with all these long letters you get from an ex-whore and all the long letters you write back.
Damnit, as much as I hate to admit it, I really do miss you.
Big hugs,
Candy