The Twelve Notes of Christmas
Dec 25
My dearest darling Edward,
What a wonderful surprise has just greeted me! That sweet partridge,
in that lovely little pear-tree; what an enchanting, romantic,
poetic present!
Bless you, and thank you.
Your deeply loving Emily
* * *
Dec 26
Beloved Edward,
The two turtle-doves arrived this morning, and are cooing away in
the pear-tree as I write. I'm so touched and grateful!
With undying love, as always, Emily
* * *
Dec 27
My darling Edward,
You do think of the most original presents! Who ever thought of
sending anybody three French hens? Do they really come all the way
from France?
It's a pity we have no chicken coops, but I expect we'll find some.
Anyway, thank you so much; they're lovely.
Your devoted Emily
* * *
Dec 28
Dearest Edward,
What a surprise! Four calling birds arrived this morning. They are
very sweet, even if they do call rather loudly--they make telephoning
almost impossible--but I expect they'll calm down when they get used
to their new home. Anyway, I'm very grateful, of course I am.
Love from Emily
* * *
Dec 29
Dearest Edward,
The mailman has just delivered five most beautiful gold rings, one
for each finger, and all fitting perfectly! A really lovely present!
Lovelier, in a way, than birds, which do take rather a lot of looking
after. The four that arrived yesterday are still making a terrible row,
and I'm afraid none of us got much sleep last night. Mother says she
wants to use the rings to "wring" their necks. Mother has such a sense
of humor. This time she's only joking, I think, but I do know what
she means. Still, I love the rings.
Bless you, Emily
* * *
Dec 30
Dear Edward,
Whatever I expected to find when I opened the front door this morning,
it certainly wasn't six socking great geese laying eggs all over the
porch. Frankly, I rather hoped that you had stopped sending me birds.
We have no room for them, and they've already ruined the croquet lawn.
I know you meant well, but let's call a halt, shall we?
Love, Emily
* * *
Dec 31
Edward,
I thought I said NO MORE BIRDS. This morning I woke up to find no
more than seven swans, all trying to get into our tiny goldfish pond.
I'd rather not think what's happened to the goldfish. The whole
house seems to be full of birds, to say nothing of what they leave
behind them, so please, please, stop!
Your Emily
* * *
Jan 1,
Frankly, I prefer the birds. What am I to do with eight milkmaids?
And their cows! Is this some kind of a joke? If so, I'm afraid I
don't find it very amusing.
Emily
* * *
Jan 2
Look here, Edward,
This has gone far enough. You say you're sending me nine ladies
dancing. All I can say is, judging from the way they dance,
they're certainly not ladies. The village just isn't accustomed to
seeing a regiment of shameless viragos, with nothing on but their
lipstick, cavorting round the green, and it's Mother and I who get
the blame. If you value our friendship, which I do (less and less),
kindly stop this ridiculous behavior at once!
Emily
* * *
Jan 3
As I write this letter, ten disgusting old men are prancing up and
down all over what used to be the garden, before the geese and the
swans and the cows got at it. And several of them, I have just noticed,
are taking inexcusable liberties with the milkmaids. Meanwhile the
neighbors are trying to have us evicted. I shall never speak to you
again.
Emily
* * *
Jan 4
This is the last straw! You know I detest bagpipes! The place has
now become something between a menagerie and a madhouse, and a man
from the council has just declared it unfit for habitation. At least
Mother has been spared this last outrage; they took her away yesterday
afternoon in an ambulance. I hope you're satisfied.
* * *
Jan 5
Sir,
Our client, Miss Emily Wilbraham, instructs me to inform you that
with the arrival on her premises at 7:30 this morning of the entire
percussion section of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, and several of
their friends, she has no course left open to her but to seek an
injunction to prevent you importuning her further. I am making
arrangements for the return of much assorted livestock.
I am, Sir, yours faithfully,
G. Creep
Attorney at law
Email: aaronsteinmetz@yahoo.com
