I hope that you know how my heart longs for your presence. I must admit that when you had first left I felt as if I could not go on without you. “How,” I would ask myself, “do you continue without Wilbur? How is it that one can know of Wilbur’s arms, strong and, dare I say, seductive, and yet continue to be parted from both Wilbur and said arms?” It was a challenge I thought would never be capable of completion.
While I am overjoyed to hear from you, I am saddened that your expedition is not going so well. It is a shame that those men you are with have been mocking such a beautiful soul as yours! And why? Simply because you prefer Peas to Patties? Mint to Mutton? Taffy to Tenderloin? This is absurd. When will the world learn that those who eat meat can live side-by-side with those who do not? As a strict vegetarian, I know you had hoped “fox trapping” would involve capturing foxes and rehabilitating them to be functioning domesticated animals. I am full of sorrow that, instead, your journey involves murder.
As for myself, I’ve made some new friends back here in Windsor, all of which are human–although please wish your pet mouse Claudio a fond hello back. I am sure you will have foreseen my displeasure over your choice of name. People in Windsor still talk about your unhealthy obsession with my brother Claudio.
In regards to my new acquaintances, their names are Adeline, Beatrice and Melba. We have started a Knitting Faction which meets every Tuesday at Adeline’s estate. Unlike you and I, these ladies are quite well off. The tea is exquisite, and the laughter, raucous. We often discuss our suitors’ follies; and while you know, Wilbur, that I think of you in the best light a woman could think of a man she loves, I must admit that I shared the Plum Pudding story with them. Beatrice laughed so hard that I believe Adeline may need new upholstery on her Rococo styled love seat.
I know you love my artwork, so I have sent, along with this letter, a drawing of you strangling a fox with your bare hands, and your men groveling by your feet. I hope this will brighten your spirits as well as empower your soul.
By showing this drawing to the men you are with, perhaps you can regain your sense of manliness while not having to hurt any real-life foxes.
As per your instructions, I am still polishing your harp daily. I must admit this task has been made easier when I dip into our secret supply of wine and scotch. I started to dip into the liquor reserves to ease the pain of missing you, and found out that inebriation is quite pleasurable!
When I am under the influence, I try to imagine new ways for us to have greater monetary gain so that we may wed and live in a nice home–the kind “the girls” have. Perhaps I will submit my artwork to the local newspapers and become a cartoonist! I am not sure how good this idea will seem in the morning, when I am of clear mental faculties.
Since the room is beginning to spin, I will end my letter. Please think positively. I know you will make it through the Winter, come back to my white, eggy skin, father a family, and be the best damned harpist the Scottish Symphony Orchestra has ever seen! Excuse the harsh language. I have a case of the giggles.
With warm regards, and all of my love,