Young lady, you chose wisely! You could have indeed decided that the most stylish accoutrement for a five year old was a Hello Kitty pursy. All pale pink and yellow and saccharine. But no! Against the blandishments of your peers you went for the personable stuffed raccoon.
An admirable decision!
While Hello Kitty says that you are fragile, soft-headed, and possibly incurably dumb, that fierce-looking stuffed raccoon indicates to the world that you are a woman to be reckoned with.
Steadfast, hard-nosed, and independent-minded.
A future doctor or engineer.
Especially the way you swing it gaily by its tail. "Don't bug me", you seem to say, "or I will clout you with a rabid beast!"
It whirls around in terrifyingly aggressive circles.
Possibly growling ominously.
I'm assuming that the stuffed raccoon is rabid. Guard-raccoons usually are.
Or maybe it keenly appreciates the roller-coaster-like motions.
Either way. There is a wide space around you.
You are a dangerous person.
Your two little sisters are blithely unconcerned and unaware.
If I had an older sister swinging a raccoon, I might worry.
The more so as I occasionally identify with raccoons and other sly night-time raiders of food-supplies. It's my deepset eyes over prominent cheekbones, you see. It gives my face a look twixt vulpine and procyonine.
Halfway foxy, halfway inquisitive backyard invader.
I tend to keep my fluffy tail out of sight.
Because of girls like you.
I'm petrified.
Anyway, stay away from Hello Kitty. That horrid feline voodoo-doll only leads to trouble. Bad grades, receding jaws, infantile squealing, plus ghastly taste in clothes, careers, friends, and reading matter.
There is naught, nothing at all, redeemable about Hello Kitty.
Hello Kitty appeals to terminally weak minds.
Wanna-be femmy halfwits.
Stick with the raccoon.
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