RAT TRAPS AND BAD EGGS

*** Adult situations, Mature language ***

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To Whom it May Concern:

There comes a time in everyone’s life when they need to take a step back and ask themselves, am I living my best life? Am I seeing life as it really is, or am I seeing it as I wish it to be? 

Let me ask, are you the trusting type? When you buy eggs at the market, do you place the carton of eggs in your shopping cart without checking them first for cracks? For the price you’re paying for those eggs, would you run the risk of purchasing a bad one? Just how much do you live on the faith and belief that all is as it appears?  

And then I suggest that you ask yourself this: 

What would happen if I dug beneath the surface of my life? What might I find there? Am I brave enough to seek truth, or am I content with what’s laid out before me? 

Oh, and we know what that is. Husband, 2.5 children, golden retriever, Cape Cod bungalow perfect for a new family, complete with white picket fence, everything you ever dreamed of. 

Well, is it? Everything, I mean? 

I might suggest one more thing: The worst of the rotten eggs are the ones that are bad on the inside, and you know it the second you crack one open. 

I’m just sayin’.

*  *  *

Hey babe,

I can’t believe we have to resort to passing notes like we were kids, but Hailey got this anonymous letter from somebody, I don’t know who. It’s full of innuendo and I can’t risk using my cell to call or text you. We just need to lay low a little while.

What gets me is Hailey hasn’t confronted me. I found this letter open on the kitchen counter just waiting for me to find. I’m not sure what she’s up to but I need to tread carefully here. Should I go on pretending I didn’t see it? Thank God the kids aren’t old enough to read. 

Please think, who might know about us? And who would resort to getting my wife involved? You know I have children to think about, and you have your own concerns. I said I would always look out for you, and I will. 

In the meantime, until I can figure this out, I’m seriously wrapped up in damage control on the home front.  I can’t stand being away from you, you have to know that. I miss everything about you, the way you look, the way you taste, the way you – I have to stop. I’m dying here.

Be patient, lovely. We need to stick together and ride this out. Believe me when I tell you being away from you is my hell on earth.

We’ll get through this.

(I can still taste you when I close my eyes)

Clarkson

* * *

To Whom it May Concern:

I imagine you find it irritating that I don’t refer to you by name; after all, I know who you are. 

Do you know who am I? You’d be amazed by the number of people who are paying attention when you don’t think they are. Things can be happening right in front of you and, still, you can miss it. And I’m not talking about a crack in a carton of eggs.

More importantly, who is the man you live with, really?  Or who does he think he is? Who do you think he is?  Back to the original question . . .

More questions than answers, wouldn't you agree? 

I'm just sayin’.

*  *  *

Ginger, love –

Before I start, let me stress to you just how much it pains me to stay away from you. There are times I don’t believe I can stand it another moment. I want to scream and unleash the madman I am when I’m with you. 

We are nearing crisis mode here. My wife received a second letter and left it out for me to see, just like the other.  She still hasn’t said anything to me directly and I don’t let on that I’ve read them. The whole thing is suffocating.  Trying to act natural in front of the children is torture. I never know what Hailey is really thinking. I wonder what kind of game she’s playing. These letters go to her, she’s read them, she must have suspicions. So, why go about it like this?  Dangling hints and innuendo and –

I’m sorry, darling. I don’t mean to burden you with my issues. I just need you to know that I can and will withstand anything to be with you, come hell or high water. If it weren’t for the kids – well, we’ve been through this. You understand me like no one ever has.       

Now, this is what we need to do to end this emotional blackmail, once and for all.  We must find out who is sending these letters. Think, my darling, and I will do the same. We must know this person, and of course, they us. 

Duh. Yes, well, I lose my mind a little more each day I’m not with you.

Who could it be?

Clarkson

*  *  *

To Whom -- oh, never mind. This letter is from the children. Of course, they didn’t write it themselves but, trust me, if they could, this is what they would say:

Dear Mommy,

We are afraid Daddy is going to leave us. We thought he would love us and take care of us forever, but now we don’t know. Daddy’s changed and we don’t think he wants to be our Daddy anymore.

Please, Mommy, make Daddy stay so we can be a family. We don’t want to be broken.

Luv,

Foster and Millie

Just sayin’.

*  *  *

Dearest Ginger,

I have never felt such agony in the face of doing something that truly goes against my heart, and yet, I see no other way.

I have had an epiphany and I am ashamed to admit how much wrong I’ve done in the name of male ego and pride. It no longer matters to me the origin of this mysterious, anonymous correspondence.  If Hailey does know about us and ever chooses to talk about it, I want to be there. I’m a changed man and I know it’s good, and it's probably too much to hope you could be pleased for me, perhaps even a little proud?  Then I could leave you with some peace of mind. But, either way, I must leave.

I hope you can forgive me. This truly is the best way.

I wish you every happiness.

Clarkson

(Would it be too much to ask if you might toss these letters in some sort of incinerator? That would be sweet icing on the cake. C.)

*  *  *

Dear Hattie,

I keep hoping they'll give you your dang phone back. This pen-writing makes my arthritis flare up like devils on a hotplate. You’re worth it though, dear.  I have to share the news with you! 

You know that hussy tart I told you about that was trying to snag that idiot son of mine and steal him from the best thing that’s ever happened to the both of us? Well, she is officially out of the picture.  And Hailey, thankfully, never had to know a thing about it. I intend to keep it that way.

It was easier than I thought. Once junior gymnastics started, while Hailey was with the children and before Clarkson got home, I left a letter for Hailey (that she’d never see) and from my room over the garage, who knows the comings and goings better than yours truly? I just made sure Clarkson got the message. 

Of course, he was too afraid to touch the letters so it was a cinch getting them back. I should have been a secret agent, Hattie. I completely missed my calling! 

I just hope my stupid son isn’t dumb enough to disclose any of his sordid business or, worse, confess! I’ll need to figure out a subtle way to squash that bug. 

You know, since I moved in here -- Hailey’s idea; not my idiot son’s, mind you -- I enjoy all the time I like with my two little rascals, Foster and Millie. This is Heaven for me. 

Oh, and more big news! I’m going to be a grandmother for a third time! Hailey’s pregnant; another reason for Man of the Year to stick around. I almost blew my cover with the first letter, but the fool never even noticed. I’ll tell you about it some time. 

So, please give my regards to all my pals at Withering Lows Nursing Home, Hattie. I hope to see you on the outside!

It really is great the way things work out sometimes, isn't it? I’m just sayin’.

Love, Your Pal,

Lolly 

*  *  *

Y O U

My momma raised a good girl so I am not going to stoop to the same low level as a man who cheats on his wife while she’s PREGNANT, and address you by any of the salutations I originally had in mind. To be honest, I couldn’t decide between scum-of-the-earth, spineless bastard or lying, cheating pig. 

I’ve changed my mind. Let’s go with all three.

Well, lover – and picture the word dripping in poison as I write it – turns out your wife's not the only one getting letters from an unknown source.  I got a special one containing the results of your wife’s latest doctor's appointment.

Congratulations, asshole. 

I never met you, I don’t know you, I never knew you, I erase you. You are unfriended, banished and deleted from my life and my memory. Never speak my name. Do not acknowledge me under any circumstance. Do not think of me, ever. If your lunatic wife ever confronts you with anything, make something up. That seems to be a specialty of yours.

(Burn this after you read it, will you, stud? I like my icing, too. F.U.)

*  *  *

Dear Hattie,

I hope you’re sitting down, dear, for what I have to tell you! It’s twins! Both girls!  I'm bursting! Their names are Holly and, pay attention now, Lolly!  Can you believe it? 

Mom and babies are well. Foster and Millie are a handful. Clarkson’s so busy, he doesn’t know what hit him. He’s come to realize they’re going to need all the help they can get around here, and they're lucky to have me.  It’s utter bliss. 

As a matter of fact, I have to go. Diaper duty.

I guess there really does come a time in everyone’s life.

Sending hugs and regards to my nursing homies! Hope to see you all on the outside.

Love, Your Pal,

Lolly

PS. I'm just sayin’.

(Face it, you wouldn't know it was me if I didn't say it. LOL)