Dear Fred- A Short Story of Sorts in Letter Form

Greetings!

To begin with, I own an apology to all my faithful readers for missing last week. I meant to write but, quite honestly, the week came and went without me really even thinking about it.

But, I’m here now.

Update on my novel: Word count- 33,688. That’s 22,000 words written this month. About 20,000 more words to go before I’m finished. I’m kind of getting sick of this book. I just want to be done so I can move on with my life. And, you know, publish the first one. It’s probably a great book. I’m just too stressed about it to notice.

Which brings me to my post for today. It’s a random story thing I wrote on Saturday off of a prompt. It was supposed to be an angry letter of protest, but that didn’t end up happening. And, I’m sort of missing an transitional paragraph… so, it still needs some work. But, you all get to read the original, unedited version. Lucky you.

And, without further ado, here it is:

Dear Fred,

               

First of all, is it all right if I call you “Fred”? I feel so weird simply calling you by your job description. Even if that is what you are, I hate to address you that way. After all, I may be many things, but I’d much prefer you to call me by my given name- which is Jessie, by the way, not sure if we’ve been properly introduced.

               

Now then, Fred- if I may, indeed call you that- I’d like to discuss the problems we’ve been having the last several months. We have, as you know, shared this apartment for several years now and I hate that it must come to this, but feel that things can’t continue this way any longer.

               

I would like to start by apologizing. I know I called you some unnecessarily violent names this morning when you refused to cooperate with me. I did not once stop to consider that perhaps you were simply having a trying morning. Maybe you got bad news about your sister. Or, maybe you overslept and were in a hurry and didn’t have time for me. Or, perhaps, it was a simple matter of you feeling overwhelmed because I expect so much from you and never seem to give anything in return.

               

I’m so sorry if you feel that way. I recognize that it is indeed true and hope you realize that if there ever were some way I could repay you, I would be more than happy to do so.

               

I chose you because you came the most highly recommended. All one needs to do is punch your name in an internet search engine and they are flooded with reviews of the most glowing praise. Everyone seems most pleased with the work you perform, going so far as to say- and I quote- that you are “impressively efficient,” “perfect for the job,” and- my personal favorite- “can accommodate both large parties and lonely winter mornings.”

               

The price at which I paid for your services is also more reasonable. For a job like yours people pay outrageous sums of money. But, you, you offer yourself at a price even a poor writer like myself can afford. You are, as they say, the working man’s gourmet.

               

And, lastly- and, please I don’t mean to make things awkward by saying this- but I did indeed choose you because of your looks. Your physique is enough to make any girl go crazy at the very sight of you. Whenever I walk in the room and see you sitting there my heart flutters and I wonder what I did to deserve having someone as wonderful as you work for me.

               

And, it’s not just your looks either, it’s you. You’ve always been there for me, right when I needed you most. The day my mom died and I had no one else to talk to. Those long, lonely nights when I had another three thousand words to write to meet my deadline. Those early mornings when I had my eight o’clock class and scarcely made it out the door without you. Whenever I needed you you’ve always been there.

               

So, you can imagine how betrayed I felt that morning a few months ago when you first failed me. It was a morning much like any other weekday, if you recall. I had an article to write for a magazine interested in my work and had gotten up early to begin. I needed you that morning, maybe more than I ever needed you before. And you weren’t there.

That one time I can forgive. I get that you simply wanted to make me laugh. And, had it only happened the once, I would have appreciated the gesture. But, your jokes keep becoming more and more frequent. Even though you know I don’t find them funny at all. You have made it a habit, this game of yours. And, I don’t like it one little bit.

               

You do recognize, I would hope, that I engaged you for a specific purpose. That is, in fact, why you live under my roof, enjoying the commodities I provide. I pay the rent, I buy the supplies you so readily use up. And, so, you can understand why I would be upset when you in fact refuse to do the job I engaged you for.

               

And, it would seem that my hints of displeasure- or even my outright name calling- aren’t getting through to you. Can you not see that the joke has gone on long enough? Can you not see that what is fun and games for you is simply yet another thing I need to worry about?

I can no longer depend on you. There was once a time when I felt certain of you. I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt that you would perform your job without hesitation. I would, if you remember, even go so far as to leave you alone to do your job while I attended to other things.

But, sadly, that day has passed. I can no longer depend on you and your services. I must stay in the room, watching your every action, to make sure that you carry out the task I set before you. And, I can’t always do that. Sometimes I have other things to attend to. I do, after all, have a life outside of you and our relationship.

               

I recognize that you too have a life outside of us and what you do for me. But, that is no excuse for being derelict in your duties. Things cannot carry on this way. I cannot keep you engaged if you refuse to do what I have engaged you for. Sitting in the kitchen looking nice does neither you nor me any good.

               

And so, as much as it pains me to say this, unless you start shaping up I am going to have to begin looking for a new coffee pot. I’m sorry if you feel this to be harsh, but I believe it is in both of our best interests.

               

Should you like to begin working again, I would love to keep you around, Not only does that save me the bother of engaging someone new, but- as I stated before- we have been through so much together and I would hate for our relationship to end this way.

And, should you wish to go, I hope it will be without spite or malice. I truly wish you the best in whatever you decide.

                                                                                Sincerely,

                                                                                                                                                                                                                          Jessie :)