Another Christmas Letter
Blog Post by Michael J Kurland - Sep.12.2008 - 7:43 am
What snew you ask? Cousin Edna has been abducted by the ground squirrels. They evidently left a ransom demand, but none of us can read squirrel. Uncle Osswega seems to be getting soft in the head, and not just at that one spot which we knew about. He has, for some reason, decided that he is a Hebrew, and refuses to celebrate Christmas unless we let him wear his warm fuzzy hat with the ear flaps in the house. He has taken to “dovining,” which apparently means bobbing and weaving at all hours while wearing a bread pan on his head and shouting, “Oy! Oy! Oy!” to all and sundry. Ferdie the Frog is sick and Cousin Mulka, who as you know is Ferdie’s Special Friend, is walking around with his head in a box. He’s afraid Ferdie’s going to croak, and he doesn’t want to face a world devoid of Ferdie. The box, which originally contained mulch, wasn’t at all empty when Mulka inverted it and placed it over his head, and is shedding shreds of overly-fertile earth as he walks as well as an unpleasant-looking red insect. The Department of Creative Entomology at Wassamatta U is paying Mulka $5 a day to stay in or about one of their cages so the insect, which seems to have adopted Mulka as a host and won’t leave his ears, can be studied. After a severe attack of ecdysiasm Abigail is her old self again, but we’ve sent for a specialist and have every hope that she’ll have a speedy relapse. The big house burnt down. It was two weeks before anyone noticed as we were all living there at the time. The only casualty seems to have been cousin Egbert, unless he, as he has always threatened, finally moved to Sweden. Our holiday poem: In this great big world There’s little tiny you So it doesn’t really matter much What the hell you do. That’s all until next year. Keep the face, and remember: always do onto others! Happy Holidays!!!!!! Oswald, Yenta, Battersby Bob, Og the Informer, Cthulu and the Kittens.
A plump, middle-aged man with greying hair and mild, hazel eyes looking out from behind wire-rim glasses, Author Michael Kurland has the perpetually nervous look of a rabbit invited to lunch at the Lions' Club. He has been a teacher of obscure subjects to...