The Fox Trapper – Letter 4

To my handsome Wilbur,

Oh, what pains it has caused me that the gentlemen in your camp produced a violent response to my artwork! Never would I have imagined that a drawing of you strangling a fox with your bare hands would result in the lesions on your face you had mentioned. And while I hope no one was depraved enough to cause you the pain in your genitals you mentioned, I must admit I do hope it is that temporary problem over a potentially more serious issue with your bladder.

I am sure you remember that the last time you had trouble urinating, Dr. Binglebittin had diagnosed you with Crimpers Pelvis. Oh, how you loathed standing on your hands for 16 minutes whilst I tickled your feet; however, “the cure must be administered” he said. Perhaps one of your men could help you with this? Try to befriend at least one fellow, if not for anything but to get him to tickle your feet while you stand on your hands.

Regarding the correlation you find betwixt my brother and your pet mouse, I must say that when I read your letter to Adeline whilst imbibing heavily with her fine aged Scotch, she inquired as to whether you and Claudio ever had a physical relationship. I attempted to explain how the physicality of your relationship extends only to friendly sporting events, but due to my inebriation I blurted out “Wilbur’s hands are on my brother’s shaft. That’s all!” Everyone laughed, but I do not think I helped your case. I then vomited.

Even though I had vomited prior to reading your portion of the letter which began “Do not tell anyone of this,” I still feel a sense of remorse for having read the portion of your letter before that. I know you probably intended on this letter being private, but it seems that the spirits give me a mind of my own. I know the doctors have mentioned this is dangerous for a woman to have, but, Wilbur, I must say that I feel strong…POWERFUL even. And, Wilbur…I enjoy this!

When I partake in alcohol, it is as if I am walking in a calming wooded lot, except the trees have been replaced by your biceps. I feel safe, secure, and aroused. My cheeks feel flushed as if I am ridden with fever, but instead I am ridden with giggles. I assume these memories would last a life time, if they were not destroyed every evening by the very alcohol that produced them.

Regardless, I shall not tell anyone that you have been trying to warn the foxes of the impending danger. I know you believe very strongly that you can commune with animals. I try very hard to defend you whenever non-believers call us “loony.” I hope that your journey produces one solid case of this commune that we can hoist above our heads in a stone-like defense against those who question us.

I have made another piece of artwork. I hope this one helps keep your spirits high, and it may, perhaps, help you gain the trust of the foxes; although if the last drawing did not please the men in your crew, I would not show them this. I attempted to show the foxes that you understand their beauty and know how to make them happy by adding shooting stars and a rainbow chasing a happy pot-o-gold.

Speaking of which, I have great news! These alcoholic retreats to Adeline’s estate have paid off in more than just hedonistic pleasure for me: Beatrice has used some of her connections to get a cartoon of mine published in the daily newspaper! Wilbur, I am enthralled. I am currently working on my piece. I will submit it to you, my love, as well, since I know you love my artwork.

I know you worry that my heavy drinking as of late may cause my downfall, and while I can assure you that I only use alcohol both to calm my intense loneliness and make me feel like a stronger person, I can not tell you with certainty that I will stop: especially so if I become well known in the papers. People will expect me to enjoy a drink with them.

I will end my letter now and wish you the best, Wilbur. Know I love you. And, know that even though I love you, I will not tell my brother to keep both himself and his “bristling muscles” strong for you. I am worried that you are already writing letters telling him this. However, if it is any consolation, I have begun daydreaming heavily about you coming back home to wed me. “Eliza Popbottom.” The name alone makes me swoon!

Forever with all my love from my love-filled heart,

Eliza

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2 thoughts on “The Fox Trapper – Letter 4”

  1. Dear Adam,

    Thank you very much for your kind words! It is always nice to meet people who are pleased with my artwork. That happy pot-o-gold brings me back to days of my childhood. It also reminds me of the time that Adeline imbibed so heavily in alcohol that she cursed our very country and then proceeded to vomit in her own iron chamber pot. The girls and I laughed so hard at her folly. Luckily for her sense of shame, she soon blacked out. We then proceeded to dip our feathers in the ink, as they say, and draw phallic symbols all over Adeline’s forehead! Oh, how joyous it certainly is to be both alive and drunk.

    Love,

    Eliza

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