PrompTuesday #16

This week's PromptTuesday, courtesy of Deb is to write a letter of Complaint. The first part of that is that I have to find something to complain about. Usually I have a list about a mile long of things to complain about, but lately, my list is waning. Or it could be some psychological thing where I can't think of anything to complain about when I finally have a valid opportunity. I suppose that's a good thing, but that makes this thing a stretch.

Rules: 250 words, 10 minutes, yada yada yada. :)


Dear Gophers,

I understand that you're just trying to 'do your job' by digging holes. It's what you do. I don't all of the holes in the area around my home, outside of the fenced in area. What I mind, is when you decide to dig under my fence and dig caverns in my (what used to be) freshly sodded backyard.
I'm also a little bit concerned about the high number of holes in the hill under my sidewalk. I'm a bit afraid that one of these days, Little Monster and Faith are going to be racing their tricycles on that sidewalk when, suddenly, there will be a mild tremor, causing the entire sidewalk to collapse in on itself.

I wouldn't worry about that as much if we lived in, well, pretty much anywhere else but directly on top of the San Andreas Fault. But, being as we do live near the San Andreas Fault, those tremors, they're bound to happen. I'm not worried about the giant earthquake that's going to send the state of California sinking into the ocean. We'll all be dead anyway -- you included. Have you ever stopped to think about that? I mean, COME ON! You could be creating a new fault line in my backyard with the number of holes you're digging.

I do appreciate that you contracted the dogs to help you dig a swimming pool for me. Next time, though, you should consider the weather. We've had about 3 days of 'swimming' weather here. While the rest of the country is being par-boiled alive, we're sitting at 55 degrees. So, just for your future reference, we do not need a swimming pool.

If you do not cease and desist this obssessive hole digging within the confines of my fence, I will be forced to take extreme action. I have tried warning you with that annoying sonic rodent blaster. You have not heeded the warning, though. My next option is to contact my lawyer about the ramifications of decapitating you with the mattox I bought to remove bush roots from our Virginia Home. (Do you see that, I said "LAWYER," In polite mid-western speak, that means I MEAN WHAT I AM SAYING AND I'M NOT AFRAID TO GET THE LAW INVOLVED.") Gophers, you are trespassing and stealing my soil and grass. For that, I can have your head. And I just might. If I can catch you.


Love,

Momma Mary