Dear Evil Editor,
I am sorry to report that your dog died. Sneezix ate rotted horsemeat.
He got out the front door when the firemen came. The dead meat was
Marigold, your Appaloosa. Marigold got scared and ran into her stall and
burnt-up in the fire. Sneezix didn't know it was Marigold when he ate her.
It took two fire brigades. Those floor-to-ceiling drapes in the library
were 20 feet tall and that decorator used some weirdo fabric that just
went up like a torch. It was a very pretty funeral until the candles
around the coffin lit the drapes, and burnt the roof, and destroyed the
barn with Marigold inside. And your dog died.
All the mourners said your wife looked almost alive. You see, your wife
stroked out. Your Daughter called Undertaker Fred and he laid her out in
silks and laces with candles and flowers. During the wake, your
mother-in-law flung herself on the coffin, the catafalque broke under
her weight and knocked over the candles, lit the drapes, burnt the roof,
sparks jumped to the barn, the barn burnt. It killed the horse. Sneezix
had run outside away during the excitement and on his return, ate the
bad horsemeat, and died.
The doctors said an aneurism exploded when your wife saw your teenage
daughter in bed with the pool boy in her mouth and his cousin bubba
up... But I don't have to tell you. It's on YOUTUBE. Look up "Deep
Debby." It's won a webby award and your daughter is accepting the trophy
The lawyer will explain the details. He's meeting you at the airport
with the FBI. I'm sorry your dog died.
Other than that, nothing happened. I will be happy to house sit again