Coconut Soy Delight

Dear Bridget,

I think you should know about this yogurt I ate last night. It was coconut soy delight and the texture was exactly like old, hard, jello. It didn’t taste like anything to me, but I’m sure you would have been able to taste the coconut because you hate it so much. I wish you could have tasted it. I tried to punch up the flavor by adding honey and cinnamon, but it was late and I wasn’t wearing my glasses. I ended up adding honey and black pepper. That did not improve the taste. However, as I said, it was late, I was hungry and I didn’t want to wake anyone by cooking something, so I decided to try and salvage it. Luckily, because of its gelatinous consistency, I was able to scoop off the very top where I had added the pepper and remove almost all of it. I rinsed off my spoon and added more honey and actual cinnamon this time. I grabbed my yogurt and quietly tiptoed out of the kitchen. Just as I was making my way back up the stairs, I knocked over a screwdriver that was on the banister and it fell onto the stairway, bouncing and making a loud bang with each step it hit on its way down to the hardwood floor, where it rolled around for what felt like ten minutes. I just stood there watching it, hoping no one else had heard it. I got back in bed and ate my yogurt quietly. It still tasted terrible to me and I can only imagine what it would have been like for you.

Love, Deborah


I Want the Backpack

Dear Stephanie,

Happy Birthday! I’m really sorry your party got cancelled on Saturday. Does Alex really have lice? Eew. My mom said you’re gonna get it too for sure. Are you sad about not getting your party? I am.

Well, I’m writing to cheer you up and tell you I got you a really good gift.

It’s bangles and stickers and lip-gloss and a backpack of Elsa from Frozen. It’s blue with glitter and when you squeeze Elsa’s face it plays “Let It Go.”

Stephanie… I want the backpack.

My mom said it’s not your fault the party got cancelled and I’m not mad at you. But still, I didn’t get to go. We’re coming by later to drop off you your gift and I think you should open it and then say you want me to have the backpack. Because of how much I love Elsa. I know you do too, but not as much as me. And I mean, it’s not even your birthday anymore.

You’re such a good friend. I know you’ll do the right thing.

Love, Olive

P.S. What are you guys going to do with all the party favors?

The Shortest Giraffe

Hi kids, my name is Stephanie and I’m going to read you a story I wrote called The Shortest Giraffe. It has what’s called a strong moral message.


The Shortest Giraffe


Daisy was the prettiest giraffe in the jungle. She had a long neck, long legs, and her eyelashes were thick. Cathy had a short neck, little legs, and her eyelashes were just regular. All the boy giraffes had a crush on Daisy and that made Cathy hate her. “Fuck Daisy,” thought Cathy. (Now kids, I know your mom and dad probably told you not to use that word, but… it is what Cathy was thinking.)

Because Cathy was super short, she couldn’t reach the leaves at the top of the trees and everybody knows that the up high leaves taste like candy. The other giraffes laughed at her and said, “Go eat bushes with the baby giraffes.” So she did.

One day, a gang of saber tooth devil lions came and slaughtered all the tall giraffes including Daisy. Cathy and the babies were safely hidden in the bushes. When they came out, they found everyone torn to pieces and dead and bloody.

It was sad, so no one talked about it. Ever.

Cathy became the giraffe leader. She told the others that being short and having regular eyelashes was beautiful. She said lions only ate tall giraffes. As the kids grew taller, they became afraid for their lives. They started to hunch over and walk with bent legs.

One day Cathy was dancing ballerina style by herself when she was taken down and dragged away by a saber tooth devil lion. A few days later, the other giraffes found her bloody rotting body. That is what Cathy gets for lying.

Kids, if you’re too tall and pretty, you have to watch your back. And even if you’re not anything special, you’re still not safe. No one is safe. Ever.

Thank you.