Dear America, You Damned Wanker,

You could have given me chocolate, or thin mints, or tea bags, or MILK, for God's sake—you could have given me ANYTHING for Valentines Day! But a cat? You got me a CAT? What the bloody hell am I supposed to do with it?!

It's been sitting in my parlor window all day, staring at me. It's got these huge green eyes that are scaring me. I think it's trying to peer inside my soul. And then, when I turn around, I can see the bloody thing staring at the back of my head. It's still staring at me whilst I write you this letter! What am I supposed to call it? Does Fluffy work?

Take it back, America—you git—I don't want it! It's an ominous shade of gray and I don't know how long it will be until it…murders me. It won't murder me, will it? Bloody hell—JUST COME BACK HERE AND TAKE THE DAMN THING AWAY!

I'm warning you! Take it back!

No regards this time, you stupid Wanker!

Arthur Kirkland

PS: You really wanted to git me good this time, didn't you? Get it? Git? Get—oh, never mind…