The sub-moronic ramblings of a semi-functioning illiterate

Love Letters Gone Wrong

Love Letters Gone Wrong – Twenty

It’s time for another round of LOVE LETTERS GONE WRONG! Every Friday I feature a LOVE LETTER GONE WRONG submitted by an anonymous blogger. Sunday morning I reveal the secret admirer’s identity with a link to the blogger’s home page. If you’d like to submit some truly heinous love letters please send them to heellisgoa@gmail.com.

This week’s love letter one wrong was written by a one of my Blogs With Books authors. Check out this page and then return to the comments here to guess who the secret admirer is. The first correct guess wins a free copy of my ebook.

 

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Dear Heloise Ecclesiastes Ellis,

 

I remember the first time I laid eyes on you.  I was in kindergarten.  You wore a blue dress and smelled of huckleberry (I distinctly remember it as huckleberry because even back then I was looking stuff up on Wikipedia).  I moved in closer to admire you as you finger-painted fiery orange and red and black with a yellow stripe running down the middle of the artpaper.  I touched the gauzy film of your petticoat and you punched me in the face, shattering my nose in thirty-two places. It was only later that I realized what a gift that was, as my new proboscis bears an uncanny resemblance to Edward Hotspur’s penis.

 

As we grew older in the small town of Valentine (I’ve always wanted to give you one—a small town, not a Valentine), I realized that even though I could sing and dance, I wasn’t gay enough to keep from wanting you, even after I figured out that you are a woman—a small woman with big breasts and all the energy of a Red Bull factory wired by Nikola Tesla while Benjamin Franklin flies a kite on top of the building with a key attached to the string with a 12 gauge copper wire attached to the key so that when the whole thing electrifies from lightening, it is conducted back to the factory, which is you I think, though I got kind of lost when I started talking about wiring, as I’m not an electrician.

 

As the years flew by and you became more stacked and stacked tire after tire after tire in that random field by the pond (I worked at the Goodyear Plant and would dump them there just to give you something to do), I began to realize that you would never love me, not like you love Prince Charming and Junior.  And I knew that the shit I say would never be as meaningful as the shit your kids say, but I would yell “Shit, shit, shit?” as I hauled tires back and forth, and you would post pictures of snowy trees on your blog and I knew you saw me in every frozen leaf, especially the ones where I actually glued my picture to the leaf,  with Edward’s Penis above my lips, those lips screaming out from every gluey leaf, screaming, “Love me, Love me, Love me!”

 

I know you think needy men are pussies, but it isn’t so much need as the desire of several teenage boys wrapped together like a duct-taped suitcase filled with the masculine love of an older, unneedy salt and pepper gentleman with a moustache (moustache rides are free by the way).

 

And then, one day, I was up on the roof with a couple of tires I’d hauled up there (I thought that would be a new challenge since you’re getting tired of the Thunderdome) and you said in that husky voice of yours:

 

“Hey, Asshole.  I’ve got a gun and I’m going to blow you a new one!”

 

And when that bullet went through me I knew in my heart (the bullet was actually in my heart with all the other feelings) that you really did care.  You really did.  No one shoots someone unless they really care about them, or they just wish they had a penis like Edward Hotspur’s and they’re frustrated.

 

You’re the former, not the latter.  So I climbed down the ladder, my former self wondering why I was bleeding so profusely, and you met me at the window, the same one you like to lick so much, and before I passed out, I swear we had something real between us.

 

It was a tire.

 

Love   XXXXXXXXXXXXXX


My Secret Admirer – Nineteen

It’s time for this week’s LOVE LETTERS GONE WRONG secret admirer big reveal! This week we did have a winner, so click the trophy to the right for this week’s winning blogger.

Here’s a recap of Friday’s post as well as my response at the bottom. If you’d like a free copy of my ebook take a guess or send a love letter gone wrong to heellisgoa@gmail.com.

 

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Oh, Heidi, Heidi. Christ almighty,
how I do love thee?
Thy witty prose, thy way with words,
pure amazes me.

I would write for you a poem
if I only could.
But when I think about you
I part turn into wood.

It gets so hard and painful
I can scarce endure.
And in case you’re doubtful,
that’s not bull manure.

It’s not the type of wood with which
I heat my home at night.
It is instead so warm and smooth,
and could give you great delight.

But the miles that lie between us,
so many in their count,
make it so unlikely
that you I’ll ever mount.

My wife would be heartbroken
if she knew to you I write.
But I’ll be thinking of you
when I’m doing her tonight.

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Thank you, kind sir
for your letter to me
that I read many times
while I sat in the tree

outside of the window
that looks onto your bed
and watched you make love
to a woman in red

who called out a name
that I didn’t quite hear
and then something about
something else in her rear

that I assumed meant you’d used
a bit too much force
which makes total sense since
you’re hung like a horse

but when she complained
how it started to burn
all I could think of was,
“When’s it MY turn?”

CLICK THE HEART BELOW FOR THIS WEEK’S SECRET ADMIRER:

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Love Letter Gone Wrong – Nineteen

It’s time for another round of LOVE LETTERS GONE WRONG! Every Friday I feature a LOVE LETTER GONE WRONG submitted by an anonymous blogger. Sunday morning I reveal the secret admirer’s identity with a link to the blogger’s home page. If you’d like to submit some truly heinous love letters please send them to heellisgoa@gmail.com.

This week’s love letter was written by a blogger who took the time to comment on my OPEN LETTER post. Check out this post and then return to the comments here to guess who the secret admirer is. The first correct guess wins a free copy of my ebook.

Oh, Heidi, Heidi. Christ almighty,
how I do love thee?
Thy witty prose, thy way with words,
pure amazes me.

I would write for you a poem
if I only could.
But when I think about you
I part turn into wood.

It gets so hard and painful
I can scarce endure.
And in case you’re doubtful,
that’s not bull manure.

It’s not the type of wood with which
I heat my home at night.
It is instead so warm and smooth,
and could give you great delight.

But the miles that lie between us,
so many in their count,
make it so unlikely
that you I’ll ever mount.

My wife would be heartbroken
if she knew to you I write.
But I’ll be thinking of you
when I’m doing her tonight.


My Secret Admirer – Eighteen

It’s time for this week’s LOVE LETTERS GONE WRONG secret admirer big reveal! This week we did have a winner, so click the trophy to the right for this week’s secret blogger.

Here’s a recap of Friday’s post as well as my response at the bottom. If you’d like a free copy of my ebook take a guess or send a love letter gone wrong to heellisgoa@gmail.com.

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Dear H,

I’ve come to realize I am the only one for you, just because I may have let’s say “taken care” of the competition. But as I am writing this note on my clip board as a wander aimlessly around your house, don’t worry as to how I managed to get in but I can say I will pay for the hole in the roof.

 

That aside I must say, your choice of furniture is peculiar but the way it is (after I’ve made alterations) set out is pure amazing… I hope you like it. The only flaw for my love for you, is that your home does not have easy access to someone of my height but that said armed with my trusty foot stool I was able to reach those hard to get spots even managing to climb into your bed, my plan was to wait for you to come home to find me waiting for you but instead I decided to unpack all my clothing into what I presume is your wardrobe, and after going through just about all your clothing and admiringly wearing some items I might just have to take you shopping so that I can buy us matching vest tops that express our love for Snow White. As part of my work being a dwarf mob boss I am pleased to say anything or anyone you want can be dealt with making it easier for us to be together, money or resources are not an issue as you can see by the new jungle gym now found in your yard.

 

I have also assigned security to your kids and they are now on route to keep them safe you might want to drop them a call and tell them that the small green bushes that follow them with guns are there for their own protection. On that note I’m off for some shopping and I have some things to take care of, ill be back in a day or two.

Lots of love from but one of the 7 dwarves who now lives with you

xOxOx

P.s I think I left a gun in one of the draws please take case as it is loaded.

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Dear #7 (assuming?),

I surely do appreciate the added security on the kids, and yes, I had wondered where that draft and the jungle gym equipment came from, although around here, things appear in the yard randomly anyway.

I was intrigued by the stepstool refrences through your note. I have to admit that I’ve always fantasized about being in a situation where I’m the tall one, so that is something we’ll have to explore. However – and I hope this doesn’t deflate your Vienna sausage – I do want you to bring the other six friends you mention. I can’t tell you how long I’ve yearned for being taken care of that completely. Hope you and the six of your crew are “up” to me.

Waiting in anticipation,

H.E.

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Love Letters Gone Wrong – Eighteen

It’s time for another round of LOVE LETTERS GONE WRONG! Every Friday I feature a LOVE LETTER GONE WRONG submitted by an anonymous blogger. Sunday morning I reveal the secret admirer’s identity with a link to the blogger’s home page. If you’d like to submit some truly heinous love letters please send them to heellisgoa@gmail.com.

This week’s love letter was written by a blogger who’s new to my blogroll:

A PLACE FOR NERDS

DELIGHTFULNESS

BUDDAKAT

HOBBLING AROUND

The first correct guess wins a free copy of my ebook.

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Dear H,

I’ve come to realize I am the only one for you, just because I may have let’s say “taken care” of the competition. But as I am writing this note on my clip board as a wander aimlessly around your house, don’t worry as to how I managed to get in but I can say I will pay for the hole in the roof.

 

That aside I must say, your choice of furniture is peculiar but the way it is (after I’ve made alterations) set out is pure amazing… I hope you like it. The only flaw for my love for you, is that your home does not have easy access to someone of my height but that said armed with my trusty foot stool I was able to reach those hard to get spots even managing to climb into your bed, my plan was to wait for you to come home to find me waiting for you but instead I decided to unpack all my clothing into what I presume is your wardrobe, and after going through just about all your clothing and admiringly wearing some items I might just have to take you shopping so that I can buy us matching vest tops that express our love for Snow White. As part of my work being a dwarf mob boss I am pleased to say anything or anyone you want can be dealt with making it easier for us to be together, money or resources are not an issue as you can see by the new jungle gym now found in your yard.

 

I have also assigned security to your kids and they are now on route to keep them safe you might want to drop them a call and tell them that the small green bushes that follow them with guns are there for their own protection. On that note I’m off for some shopping and I have some things to take care of, ill be back in a day or two.

Lots of love from but one of the 7 dwarves who now lives with you

xOxOx

P.s I think I left a gun in one of the draws please take case as it is loaded.


My Secret Admirer – Seventeen

*** TODAY IS OUR SECRET ADMIRER REVEAL AS TOMORROW IS OUR EXCLUSIVE EARTH DAY INTERVIEW WITH THE EARTH GODDESS HERSELF, GAIA ***

It’s time for this week’s LOVE LETTERS GONE WRONG secret admirer big reveal! This week we did not have a winner, so click the trophy for another whacked out post.

Here’s a recap of Friday’s post as well as my response at the bottom. If you’d like a free copy of my ebook take a guess or send a love letter gone wrong to heellisgoa@gmail.com.

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My dearest H. E.:

I am so glad I found you through the magic of the internet, because when I first laid eyes on your blog, I knew you were destined to be in a box under my bed.  Just like the girl who was kept captive in a box under someone’s bed in California in the late ’70s and early ’80s, you will of course be allowed to be outside of the box once I’m off work.  Unlike that case, though, there will be no torture involved (who do you take me for, after all?).  In fact, I won’t be abducting you while you are hitchhiking, like happened in that case, because I can’t afford the gas after all.  I just know that YOU know that you belong in a box under my bed, and you will drive here.  It would help if you’d bring the box too, because I don’t really like to do all that much when I’m not at work.  But, I will make an exception for you, because of the fact that we are destined to be together.

So, if that’s the case (that you are too lazy to build your own box) please send me all your measurements and how much extra room you think you need in the box, and I’ll commence to building the damn thing.  Let’s not overdo the size of it though; I don’t have a whole lot of headroom in the place, and I don’t really need to climb up in my bed with a stepladder.  Of course, there’ll be a lot of “headroom” in the whole place for you.  There will be “headroom” for us everywhere you and I go.  If you play your cards right, I may spend some time in your box with you.  I think the two of us might have some fun there, in your velvet-lined box.

The box will need to have ventilation, lighting, and some sort of bathroom facility built into it, so it would help if you could design all that in too.  I can tell that you are one of those modern women who can do such things, and figure all kinds of things out for yourself, and that the only time you will need to be submissive to any man is when I snap my fingers and tell you that it’s time for you to serve me in some way.

Your box will have to have an internet connection in it and you will be allowed to have a laptop, because I really enjoy your blog and you will want to keep communicating with the rest of the world with it, when you are not communicating with me by giving me lip service.  Plus you will want to work on your next novel, as we will need the extra income now that I will have an extra mouth to feed.  Maybe you could start a second blog; you could call it “Thoughts from my box” or “The world according to my box” or “I’ve got more going on in my plush little box than you do in your whole house” dot wordpress dot com, or some such thing.

Obviously you won’t need much for clothes at first; I will keep the heat up higher than I usually would while I’m at work, so that you can always be wearing nothing but lingerie.  Once I’m sure that you’ve “got your mind right” and aren’t going to think that you need more from life than a box under my bed and to serve me, daily, (hourly on weekends), then you will be allowed to spend more time outside the box.  I don’t expect you to be “thinking outside the box”, though, unless it’s to be thinking of ways to make me even happier.  I could go on and on about how much enjoyment your box will bring to both of us, but I think I’ve spent enough time fixating on your box for one night, don’t you?

Ever awaiting my chance to first lay eyes on your box,

I remain,

Your faithful servant

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Dear Faithful Servant,

How kind of you to think of giving me a box! I’ve always wanted one, you know. When I was in kindergarten I told my teacher I wanted a box and she gave me a small, narrow pink one that I didn’t think would hold anything bigger than a crayon, but somehow it accommodated even the largest pencils!

As I got a little older I told my mother I wanted a box but she said I was “confused.” Then I told the Pastor at my church about my want of a box, and he told me to pray so I wouldn’t get one. That made me really confused.

Finally I saw a doctor and told him about my box dreams. He told me to move to Colorado Springs and wear a dress for a year. Not sure what that has to do with a box, but I’ve grown to like how the silk feels against my skin.

I like the idea of you spending time with me in my box. I’m only 4’11” so there may not be much room for you to fit. You may have to cram yourself in there. I’m sure we can make it work.

Waiting patiently for you to come fill my box,

MR. H.E. Ellis

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