Why I Oughtta

Dear Bruce,

First of all, I want to thank you for appreciating my work. I spent seven of the happiest years of my life working “Doctor Wiggles’ Giggle Factory.” Even though the show completed its run almost thirty years ago, it is good to see that current generations are appreciating the “magic” we created in the studio.

My role as Sammy the Squirrel was a rewarding one, in that I find squirrels to be misunderstood creatures. While many people consider them a nuisance, I appreciate their work ethic, their playful behavior and their bravery (how many animals do you know that so freely run into traffic!). All of these qualities are ones that we would hope to instill in the young ones who watched our show. That’s why I always urged them to “be the squirrel.” Ha ha.

I noticed that your return address was to the Pensacola Correctional Institute! I suppose you are looking for guidance after being led in the wrong direction. Perhaps you were influenced more by Brutus the Beaver than Sammy the Squirrel!!

While I am thrilled to received mail from my fans, I didn’t quite understand parts of it and I hope (in our future correspondence) that we can clarify these points.

First, you mention Cecilia the Canary’s cat several times. You say that her cat is sweet and that you bet she has a really wet cat. Later in the letter, I believe you said something about having a rooster and that you wanted to put it inside her cat. This confuses me greatly because, as far as I know, the actress that played Cecilia the Canary (the lovely and talented Lucille Donovan) has never owned a cat, as she is allergic to fur. Furthermore, I am surprised to hear that they let you keep poultry on the premises of your correctional institute. This is some sort of work program perhaps?

I was also confused by your questions about the hand puppets we used intermittently on the show. The Wally and Molly, the penguins, were hand puppets operated by Vincent, our prop master. You mentioned that you wanted to see your sea men inside the puppets. Am I to presume that you are incarcerated with former Navy men? I don’t know what happened to the puppets after the show’s cancellation, but I will do some poking around to see if I can find those puppets for your sea men!

I’ve enclosed a headshot and resume, just in case you know anyone in the business that you could talk to upon your release. You never know who knows who!

Best wishes on your rehabilitation!

Bernard “Sammy the Squirrel” Jacobs

Dear Rex,

No one is more surprised than me that I am leaving this note by your water dish. I still feel a little odd about it, but, given my recent discoveries, I find it necessary to confront you.

We knew you weren’t a normal dog soon after we brought you home from the humane society. We originally appreciated your calm demeanor and gentle nature toward the kids. All of our friends commented on how well-behaved you were in front of company and some even said it was like he listening to the conversations.

We didn’t even pay it too much mind when you didn’t take to Sparky, who (we all know) is your exact opposite. When you lie on the floor as guests enter, he rushes to the door at the sound of the bell and we have to grab a hold of his collar to prevent him from ambushing the company. Sparky is always up for a game of fetch, whereas you have always been aloof, to say the least.

I noticed that I have been missing stamps from my purse for a few weeks now. I thought it was Andrew who was taking them, perhaps to mail some bills, but then I found out that he had a book on his nightstand. The kind with the little American flags. I had the Cary Grant commemorative collection.

Around the same time I noticed that the computer in the downstairs study has been covered with dog hair. It was black, like yours, and it was everywhere. On the mouse pad, between the keys and on our $300 ergonomic computer chair. Again, I wrote it off, thinking that one of the cleaning ladies must have kicked up some hair while vacuuming. It was a stretch, but what else was I supposed to think?

However, the final straw came two days ago when I made two discoveries. I came home from work early, about noon, because Kevin had a dentist appointment. I had to run in the house to grab my checkbook and, on a whim, checked to see if the mailman had come early. He hadn’t, but in my mailbox I found a letter addressed to Congressman Burrows. The return address? “Rex” at 435 Mayflower Rd.

I thought it was a joke at first. Perhaps Stacey had a project for school, perhaps Andrew was playing a game with the postal service. But, upon opening the letter (a federal offense, I know), I saw that it was a letter written to endorse legislation against homosexual marriage. I was aghast, knowing full well that Andrew would never write a such a letter (especially given the fact that his sister, Helen, has been with her partner Suzanne for almost eighteen years now). It was then that the pieces began to fall into place.

After Kevin’s appointment we went straight home. You were snoozing by the fireplace while I went on the computer and ran a search for “homosexual” on the hard drive. Sure enough, I found your letter. It was in your folder, innocuously named “My files.” There were also letters in there that advocated mandatory prayer in school and easing environmental standards for large corporations.

Needless to say, I was appalled that we had an individual in the house that held such backward beliefs. Canine or homo sapien, no one in the Stevens family will promote such an agenda.

I have so many questions, of course. Why were we paired with a dog with such high intelligence (although given the sloppy grammar and flimsy arguments you make in your letters, I certainly don’t overestimate it)? How can you type such small fingers and the lack of opposable thumbs?

While I?m impressed by your accomplishments, I have to admit you’ve been sloppy. You never cleaned up your hairy mess by the computer, you surfed right wing web sites without once clearing your history in our web browser and you saved files when you really had no reason to (other than to re-read them with nearly masturbatory glee).

You might think that I would announce your abilities to the media. No such luck. I wouldn’t want you to release your beliefs on the public at large.

For now, we’re restricting your access to the basement and backyard. Sparky can come up whenever he wishes, though. And even if you think of a way to come up, the computer will be password protected. Don’t flatter yourself into thinking you’ll be able to crack it.

So, I don?t wish to discuss this any further. I expect you to do normal dog things, such as rolling over and playing dead. There will be no right wing political activism by any animal in this house.

Yours,

Ruth

Dear Samuel,

I miss you so much! The past two weeks at the Eastern Tennessee Virginity Conference have been unbearable!

Things have been crazy! I’ve taught two workshops to over two hundred girls over the past three days. They really seemed to respond to both – especially “Yes, Oral Sex Counts.” The other one, “Genital Warts: Not a Laughing Matter,” was sparsely attended, but Mary Katherine and Mary Theresa both handled the topic (and the slide show!) maturely.

Samuel, I can’t tell you how much I’ve been thinking about you. I found myself drifting off during Francis’ keynote speech (she was going over the sex PAD – pregnancy, AIDS, damnation), thinking about how much I want to hold your hand. I want to hold your hand all night long. The more I think about it worse it gets and an almost animal-like intensity takes over. I don’t care what they say on the MTV, there’s nothing sexier than your hand on my hand. Over and over. Again and again.

Last night I woke up and my hands were white from being clenched all night! I asked Jesus for help controlling my desires and he answered by giving me an infected hangnail. Now, not only can I not clench my fists in the night, my finger is so tender that I can’t put any pressure on it without excruciating pain! The Lord’s son does work in mysterious ways, even by giving infections!

Samuel, I cannot wait until I our wedding day when you, me and Jesus can enter into holy unity. You are the two men in my life who make me who I am.

And Samuel, I like to think about that the night we accidentally fell asleep next to each other on your mother’s futon, while we watched the figure skating championships. I drifted off before Michelle Kwan hit the ice, but I know you must have been up to see her. (Sometimes I get jealous of how mesmerized you get when she does those double axels!) When I woke up in the morning and realized what happened, I think Jesus himself was lying between us, preventing our earthly desires from taking over.

Just think of our wedding night, Samuel! I like to think of all of use in your room above your mother’s garage – the room will be lit with vanilla candles and strewn with rose petals. My aunt Jeanine has promised to make me a giant crucifix made of tulips and rhinestones to mount over the bed for the night. She’s so sweet.

And when we finally consummate our love, I know Jesus will be in the corner watching. He’ll be watching and smiling. And when your body is on top of mine, I’ll turn my head and thank him.

Oh Samuel! I’m so glad I’ve found a man that shows the same degree of commitment to abstinence. These girls at the conference really need my help. I see them walking around with skirts coming up to their knees and they think that that is a Christian way to dress! I just do not understand it! One girl, a little blonde tart named Jessica Winthrop, was wearing a Jars of Clay t-shirt that was so tight I could almost see her n-pples. Of course, I told her that even though we were not in the company of men, she should not dress like that. Luckily, I always carry an extra cardigan (you know how frigid I get!) and I had her wear it for the rest of the day.

Samuel, my dear! I have to prepare for the Abstinence Banquet! We’re having a tropical theme this year with Virgin Pina Coladas (get it?!) to start off!

Help me pray that I can help these girls from a life of misery caused by premarital sex.

Love always,

Susie