Dear Mandible Jigglers,

Good afternoon, ladies and germs. I’ve been thinking of what a horrible time I had getting to this point in my life, but then my legs fell off when I climbed down the drain to rescue the noodles which were trying to escape my chewing machine. I know I am a lazy green tomato shaver, but every time I have an urge to yell “No Twinkies for YOU!” at Brobe, the local shredded wheat policeman person, a large and ugly nail collector jumps on my belly like a trampoline.

Now as you all well know, I have been impersonating a sofa for many years. New people have been looking under me for the long lost Legos, but when they lift me up I jingle too loudly so they cry for assistance. Fortunately, I wear a red raspberry raincoat to protect me from the flying squid. Those things make me really scared. Have you ever seen an angry squid show its wings? Ooooo, they don’t have any. But if they did it wouldn’t be my fault. I was never there and you can’t prove anything I say is real or smelly.

Oh, I forgot to tell you that smartphones are all programmed to barf large amounts of blue slimy cake-waste on the 29th of August. Don’t pay any attention to that man behind the curtain! Can anyone hear me? I made jelly with lint yesterday, and it’s difficult to play the harmonica now. In fact, I think I put too much duck breath in the pie today. I have been a mess like this lately, and it’s probably due to the large pile of rotten tongue depressors I found in the middle of the road. I mean, you can tell that the trees are just happy to be here. They’ve been singing those same stupid tree songs ever since I can remember. Then they wrap dirt in fancy paper and present it to each other during that “Dumb Dirt Festival” they have everyday on the Breadhouse lawn.

Ah yes. The Beautiful Breadhouse. The only thing wrong with such a house is that it’s really a mess when it rains. Mold comes and they have to get out the lawn molders to chop it down to less than knee-high by the fourth of July. But the stupid trees keep going to the bread store to build a new house; then they have nightmares about french toast and butter knives. I tried to convince them to use Elmer’s glue and rice, but they sniggled at that idea. Now look at them, they can’t get a job and they won’t eat their house. I just don’t know. I could mail them some weeds! But then I would be getting close to another paragraph page, and I don’t think I can talk about this kind of thing for more than eleven sixty two.

So there, I have bared my soul to you. You are now fully aware that I am not the guy you have come to know, I am merely a small piece of the space shuttle looking for a nice garage sale. Can you please guide me to the nearest litter box? I have something special in mind for the creeps who turned my car into a hammer handle.

Well, my dearest friends, I can’t for the life of me remember your names. But if we ever meet again, please give me a lot of money. I know that’s a big request from a

stranger, but you know as well as I do that the best things in life are free… So give me your money darn it!!! Do you really want to trap your soulds in useless material possessions?? Give me all you have and let me bear the burden for you!

I promise I won’t sell your most beloved things until I get around the corner. If your pets are selling watches on the street, what business is it of yours? They can’t work at McDonald’s all my life. I mean hey, we gotta get something from somewhere and find out what the heck it is! Otherwise, we won’t know what we have, and then we’ll be at the end of this letter! And it’s about doggoned time!!

Sing loudly and bark at the bugs!

Insincerely yours,

Hembert “Crinkles” Wopplecracker

a.k.a. Your Favorite Life Coach

And now for something completely different…