I am sick. Sick. Don’t I look sick? The kind of sick where you don’t have a fever but your hair hurts? I brushed my teeth, but it doesn’t matter. I still have dragon breath. *sniff* Rylie is sick and sad, too…. and maybe a little manic. After some thorough internet research, I have narrowed our illness down to Bird Flu or Scarlet Fever or maybe possibly a cold. Rylie makes snot bubbles when she laughs… and when she cries. She has a dried trail -o- yuck from her nose to back behind her right ear and into her mullet curls. There is a porcupine in my fwoat. I am wearing Curt’s ski pants and Calvin sweatshirt but my hair is in my face and I can’t find the remote. There is also no ginger ale in this house anywhere. I have looked. I think Rylie ate part of the camera.
Please come now. Curt made me a fire, but I can’t pick up the logs to make it keep going. And also I need the yellow speckled popcorn bowl and a milkshake. And also, we do not have the right movies. They are at your house. Our couch is not working as the ‘sick’ couch because I can’t find the green afghan. Please bring the movies, my old hairbrush, the blue couch, and the popcorn bowl. And can you please make me schnitzel with noodles for dinner with gravy.
I think I might die. Please come soon.
Don’t forget the movies or the milkshake.
And also, Abe chased a buck into the woods and rolled in turkey poop, so bring Dad too.