Hello, Martha? This is Ruth. I passed your house on my daily walk and noticed that you put out a pair of Pink Flamingos with the trash. I really wish you hadn’t, because I was forced to take them home and now I have them in my yard. I couldn’t just leave them there, you know, tossed out like old baggage and stale laughs. You could have at least buried them with dignity now that they are old and the pink is coming off. My neighbor has already told me I have too much yard art, and this will probably add ammunition to the stand off, and get me in further trouble. And I won’t mention that when I was picking up the flamingos, one of their legs fell off and I had to climb down in the ditch by your house to retrieve it, and the cop who drove by wanted to know why I was down in the ditch with Pink Flamingos. It’s OK though, the towns people already think I’m a little odd. But please, if you have anymore, just keep them to yourself.
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