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Dear Troublemaker,
When it comes to luck
I rarely draw
The short end
Of the stick.
Unless a guy
Like you comes by
And brings the
Short end with you.
You and your big ideas!
You ruined me.
You slimy little
Ball of kelp,
You gave me such
A tummy ache I
thought my stomach would
explode. You must
Think you're the
hottest spice since Old Bay.
You make me want to barf.
All that silly
Blubbering
Over your abrupt
And unfair
Discharge from the
Merchant Marine
Was just a ruse to
Stir my pity, you squid.
So was all that gas
About stealing romance
On exotic shores.
The only trip
You charted
Left me nauseous
As a beached whale,
You seasick sailor.
Did you think I untangled you from the siren's net to be treated like a bimbo? Think about it - a girl like me doesn't meet an old salt like you every day. Speaking of which...
I still recall
Your wild hair,
Your startled eyes,
Your flailing arms
Begging for a role
In my budding novel.
My jaw dropped wide open.
You took it as a yes.
Me and my big mouth!
How was I to know you'd dive right in and hijack the entire script, you scalawag?
Sweet to the taste,
Bitter to the waist,
The scroll
Unraveled me totally,
As if to make
Your guilt mine.
As I said before,
You ruined me.
The zeal inflaming your bones made me sick of lukewarm living. It drew out the preacher bottled up inside. Then the cork popped, and it all spilled out.
You should have seen the look on your face.
Schmuck.
I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard.
Schmuck.
I laughed so hard it's a wonder I'm still alive.
Schmuck.
Especially in light of the cruel trial you put me through.
Schmuck.
Now I can never return to my old lifestyle. It just won't work.
Schmuck.
You ruined me,
But in a good way.
And in case you
Don't know,
Such miracles
Happen once in
A blue moon -
If at all.
Schmuck.
Or should I call you by
Your real name,
Joe Gurgle?
That is how you pronounce it, right?
I see you're too busy kissing sand to even look at me. So much for gratitude. Men!
Anyhow, good riddance and have a safe road trip. May the Ninnies receive your message, though your prospects for publication in that market are slimmer than the chance you'll put my real name in the story instead of the generic term for "fish."
Until we meet again - not,
May the same stream of
living waters that
Saved me from all
Your bellyaching keep the sun
From hurting you by day
And the moon by night
(Now what's the chance of that?).
Swimmingly yours,
Rare Pearl
Writing Shark
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