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Dear Editor,
I am writing this letter in response to the all the freakishly tall people that I encounter every day. There seems to be an abundance of them around here and for a quiet gal of average height, this can prove quite frustrating. I pay for a concert ticket, and get to watch strangers heads bobbing up and down for 3 hours. I go to a movie and have to interpret the cinematic brilliance of it through the dialogue and whatever I can catch glimpses of at the very top of the screen. It’s really difficult going through life never being able to experience the view from the top. I know what you’re thinking, “well this is a dilemma, why don’t we just dispose of all the tall people?” Well it’s not that easy, but it is possible, and we can address several importent issues while we’re at it.
First of all, “tallies” as I like to call them, make up a large chunk of the population. If we were to murder them all, there would be a stunningly massive pile of decays corpses to deal with. Not to mention that fact that we would suddenly be missing all of our pro athletes and super models. And really, without them how would young boys and girls learn how to feel inadequate? No, genocide is no the answer in this case. I do however have an answer that will make everyone happy.
We will simply, make all the tall people into synthetically short people. It’s obvious I think. It’s the gangely intrusive legs that make tall people tower over the rest of us, so we’ll cut them off! Now you’re thinking, “wow that’s going to messy!” But it won’t, and I’ll tell you why. Everyone will benefit. Med students will be able to use this mas surgical undertaking as great hands on practise, preparing them for the real world of medicine. The tall people themselves will be able to reap the benefits of becoming amputees, such as getting to ride in wheelchairs or on skateboards that they push along with their hands. The fashion industry won’t have to deal with the bottom half any more, since none of the models will have one. They can put all their focus into the top half of fashion, which will be great since everyone owns way more shirts than pairs of pants anyway. Sports fans will just have to adjust to watching wheelchair basketball instead of legs basketball, but wheelchair basketball looks like more anyway.
It really won’t be that hard to adjust to a society where half the population has no legs. What may be more difficult to accept however, is what I propose we do with the legs once they’re separated from the bodies of the tallies. Rather then a massive pile of corpses, we will be faced with a fairly large pile of lifeless limbs. But I don’t like to think of it that way, I like to think of it as a blessing, and brand new renewable resource.
We all know that the meat industry is disgustingly horrendous. The treatment of animals is despicable and the quality of meat we’re shoveling into our bodies is less than satisfactory. What we all don’t know, is that one of the finest cuts of meat, comes from the human thigh. Yes, I know, shocking. But honestly, we could have an endless supply of fresh, free range meat. Even the toes could be ground up for fast food burger patties and hot dogs. As soon as someone hits a certain height, I’m thinking about 5’7″, they’re a couple weeks worth of protein for their short families and friends. The only problem here is, what do we do with the huge pile of human bones we’ll be faced with?
I’ll tell you what, we’ll provide affordable housing for short families in need. Bone isn’t the strongest building material on the market, but it is stronger than cardboard, and step in the right direction. By cutting down the number of tall people in our community, we will not only be satisfying the selfish desires of short people, but we will also be eliminating homelessness and unneccessary hunger. You see, tall people are the cause of and answer to many of societies most serious problems, and be illegalizing exessive height, we can eliminate more than one of the them.
Well well well. What are the 6 traits anyway? I can honestly say when I’m writing, the back of my mind isn’t occupied with silly little rules. It’s busy thinking about what I’m going to write next. Or what I am going to eat next, more commonly. However, in saying that, I’m not saying that this has been completely uselss. One of the 6 traits is focus/organization, something I struggle with. So having this time, I like to call it “special time” has been very useful to meint he respect of I’ve had to sit and think about my writing. During “special time” I’m not always writing diligently, but without “special time” I probably would be to lazy and unorganized to write anything ever. So this has helped me improve my focus in life, as well as in my writing. cough.
Dear Mrs. Corman, my deepest apologies, but I will not be able to do any work today, whatsoever.
You see, there has been a tragic accident, it happened this morning in my toaster. I got up at my usual getting up time, and decided that this morning instead of my usual bowl of cheerieos/aztec flakes/craisins and banana, I would have an english muffin. Just to mix it up a bit. So I sliced one in half and stuck each half in the toaster, adjusting the little knobbler to the correct cooking intensity.
While I was waiting for my breakfast to pop I got distracted, I had to make a lunch and find some clean clothes and find my homework. I forgot about my english muffin all together, until I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth and I heard my mom yell, “I’m gonna warm up you’re english muffin again.”
“Noooo,” I spluttered through a mouthful of toothpaste, but she didn’t hear me. By the time I’d finished up in the bathroom, it was too late.
“Oh so what it’s a little crispy!” scolded my mother, who insisted I eat it.
“I had it the way I like it. You eat it.” was my cold reply.
I stared at the poor little muffin from acorss the kitchen, I couldn’t bring myself to go near it. The way it just sat there, innocently mocking me. My eyes swelled with angry tears. How could anyone think of eating that rock hard, whole wheat hockey puck? It would break your teeth and choke your throat. I tried to imagine slathering it in butter and soaking it in organic honey, but nothing made it seem remotely edible. My whole day was over before it even began.
I thought about waiting until my mother wasn’t looking and just toss it in the can. But she would notice that, and then maybe take it out of the garbage and make me eat it then! That would be horrible! So on my way out the door I clutched it in my clenched fist and carried it all the way to school where I disposed of the burnt bread in the first trash can I came across.
You see Mrs. Corman, when things like this happen to me, my whole day is ruined. It’s all I can think about for hours, and the more I think about it and let it fester in my mind, the more angry I become. And when I’m angry I just can’t focus on working, especially writing, because good writing is dynamic, and when I’m so full of rage my writing quickly becomes nothing but senseless ranting. And I wouldn’t want to make you read anything like that, so I think it would be best if I just took the day off. Anyway, I work very well in class usually, so I probably deserve the day off, to wallow in my own breakfastless misery.
Sincerly, your best student, Carrie.
