Letter from Bianca in Huntington Beach, California

Dear Mr. Mountain Man,

Thanks for visiting our school. It was really nice for you to come. I really liked the furs. They were so soft and warm. We have a blue and green parrot named Jasper in our classroom. One time when I was feeding it, Jasper bit my finger and made it bleed. I know how to cuss in Japanese. If you don’t believe me, just ask Jasper. Now he knows how to cuss in Japanese too.

Sincerely,

Bianca

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Dear Bianca,

When I was five years old and my sister was seven years old, our parents bought us each a goldfish. They were identical and shared the same bowl. My sister said I was too immature to feed and care for them properly, so she put them on the shelf in her bedroom. The very next day, I went to check on our goldfish and there was only one in the bowl. “What happened?” I asked my sister. “Your goldfish had a seizure and died so I flushed it down the toilet” she replied.

A few months later our parents bought us each a parakeet. They were identical and shared the same cage. She named hers Fufu. One day I was feeding the birds and Fufu bit my finger and made it bleed. To teach it a lesson I gently tapped its head with a spoon. It fell off its perch and pretended to be dead on the bottom of the cage. After a few minutes, it was still pretending, so I removed it from the cage and took it over to the sink to give it a drink of water.

Just then my sister and her friend walked through the front door coming home from a picnic. I panicked. The only place I could think to hide Fufu was in the disposal. I fully intended to retrieve the bird and revive it later, but my sister was headed right towards the sink with leftovers from lunch. “The disposal is broken you have to use the garbage can” I exclaimed, trying to block her path to the sink. “Get out of my way you little creep” she muttered and brushed me aside. Then she dumped her leftovers into the disposal and turned on the switch. There was an awful grinding sound as the disposal belched up a couple of blue and green feathers. “What’s going on?” screamed my sister stumbling back from the sink. It was then she noticed there was only one parakeet left in the cage. “Where is Fufu?” she demanded.

As I exited the room I informed her that “Fufu escaped from the cage and smacked the window above the sink then fell down the disposal. He was recovering from a coma when you turned on the switch.” ”Arrgghh!” she screeched, chasing me down the hall. “You”ll be sorry you dirty little pesto-faced, bruschetta breathed, croissant-eating, schnitzel-headed, linguini spined, son of a burrito!” My sister can cuss in French, German, Spanish, and Italian. If you don’t believe me, just ask the parakeet.

Your friend,

Grizzly