Tuesday, November 15, 2011

MUD and the Angry Red Line of Accusation

Yesterday, I got threatening mail. 
I know, I gasped, as well. You see, when you are a famous literary figure, you have to take that risk.  For my art.

You see, my local Utilities company, we will call them MUD, wrote me.  It seems as though my gas usage in my home is what they like to describe as excessive.  As in, "Thanks, bitch.  If it wasn't for self-absorbed assholes like you, the polar ice caps would be growing, not shrinking, you jerkwad".

In the letter, it begins all nice. 

"Dear Aimee,
We are very happy to provide you with hot showers and other crap. We fucking LIVE for that shit. However.  It has come to our attention that you are using enough hot water to run a very successful meth lab.  AND IT MUST STOP."

Sheesh, what a bunch of assholes.  I totally DON'T have a meth lab.  If I did, I would have WAY more cash, because I know business and marketing and shit.  I would be super high-sales meth-lab Kingpin. Queenpin?  Whatever. You get my point.

It goes on:
"You, unlike you nice, calm neighbors, are single-handedly ruining our world.  You, and China.  Stop.  Please stop now.  Please see the enclosed accusatory graph, detailing your gas usage against your neighbors' gas usage."

The graph has these lines, with the months at the bottom.  It shows "homes of your conscientious neighbors", "your usage last year when you weren't such a greedy bitch but still worse than your neighbors" and an angry red line, called "this year when you decided to increase greenhouse gasses exponentially, asshat".  I would post a picture of it here, but I used my gas stove to burn it into oblivion, in anger.

Nowhere in the letter does it acknowledge that 50% of the homes in my neighborhood are abandoned vacant, and 40% are homes to one little old lady in a shawl with 9 cats. 

Nor does the letter tell me how to get lice out of sheets without washing them.
Or how to get a 12-year old boy out of the shower without causing awkward moments for us all.
Or how to get a 7 year old to leave me alone WITHOUT using the bathroom sink as a hot tub for Barbies.

Way to be hurtful and unhelpful, MUD. 

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