Dear Miss Jodiverse:
Don't think we're not onto you.
We read with great interest and a fair amount of chagrin your entry dated 12 July 2002, entitled "Poppup Pops Up". While we certainly sympathize with your loss of a man whom you clearly cherish, we must inform you that we have no sympathy whatsoever for your unabashed kleptomaniacal compulsion.
So please, without further ado, return the cobalt blue bud vase, zinnias, and "smallest bottle of Heinz ketchup" to the Marriott Hotel immediately. While we understand that it was the hand of your grandfather that figuratively stole these items, and appreciate the bittersweet sentiment inherent in that symbolism, you must realize that because it was your literal hand that "purloined" (as you say) these items, we will have no choice but to prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law if you don't surrender the above-mentioned items by 5:00 p.m. EST tomorrow, 17 July 2002.
Oh, and by the way, this also goes for this item that you slipped into your pocket at a French bistro on Second Avenue, somewhere in the 40s, on 28 June 2002. Just because it's small and "they have tons of them and, what, are they going to, like, count them or something, and besides, how much could it have possibly cost them anyway", doesn't mean you can just take it. And then to brag about it to your brother and 15-year-old nephew? That's just not cool.
In addition, the Japanese restaurant that, until late November or early December, 2001, owned this item , which you swiped from atop a cash register and then hid under your jacket on your way out of the establishment, has decided not to press charges. The proprietor, whom you erroneously thought was eating in the back of the restaurant with his staff when you made the decision to "just take it", saw and heard everything, and it saddened his heart that not only would you steal something that you could have easily bought at Pearl River Mart for $2.95 but also that you would laugh about this theft for the rest of the day and even now, several months after the fact. He, alone, is willing to forgive you. He will not, however, forget.
Isn't it high time you stopped this stealing business, anyway? Isn't this the sort of juvenile shenanigan that got you into a bit of trouble during your madcap teen years? Did you not learn anything from your experience? Please pardon the vernacular, but we strongly suggest you grow up already. Enough is enough.
If you have any questions or concerns regarding anything contained in this letter, please do not hesitate to call us.
Very truly yours,
Robert T. Feldman, Esquire
Dear Miss Jodiverse: