Dear Michael,
The dog is in the oven. Don’t open it, it’s too late. I’m sorry.
God that sounds so rubbish, but it’s true, really. Between accidentally cooking the dog and finding those letters, it’s been the most awful day. But the two are entirely unrelated, I promise. I wouldn’t kill Bertie just because I found out that you’re a cheating piece of pond scum.
You probably won’t believe me, seeing as he chewed my favourite shoes only last week, but I forgave him. He hasn’t didn’t have any higher cognitive functions to help him control his base urges. He saw the shoe, wanted to chew the shoe, then chewed it.
You on the other hand, as a functioning, intelligent human being, do have higher cognitive functions that are perfectly capable of over-riding your base drives. You just choose not to use them that way. You see a tart, want to shag the tart, then shag her. That’s why you should be in the oven and not Bertie. But life is unfair, justice only happens in (modern) fairytales and little gits like you get to keep on going whilst poor little doggies accidentally get cooked.
I suppose I should explain how I baked the dog, but I’m tempted not to. I like the thought of you reading this and wanting to find out, then reaching the end without discovering how it happened. Then there’ll be nothing for you to do but go and get the poor little sod out of there and wonder – for the rest of your sad life – how on earth it happened.
Can I be that cruel? I think I can, seeing as I know you’ll devote more of those higher cognitive functions to solving that puzzle than the one of how I found the guts to finally leave you. It might cross your mind briefly one day as you zip up your flies and flush the toilet. “She’ll be back tomorrow,” you’ll think, not seeing any metaphorical significance in your watching the water swirl away. But I won’t.
You may also be curious about the location of your latest manuscript. There’s a clue in the previous paragraph. It’s not the Times cryptic crossword I know, but I’m in a rush and can’t spend all morning in a kitchen that smells of roasted pet, writing to the likes of you. When you calm down, you’ll realise I taught you the best way possible that keeping back ups of your work is important. Don’t bother with the computer by the way, I dropped coffee on it. That was deliberate, I’ll admit that. Not like the dog.
You know the funniest thing about all of this? It’s that over the years when people have found out who my husband is, they’ve always thought you based those raunchy scenes in your pulp novels on our liaisons in the bedroom. I never once said that you were more imaginative in front of your computer than you ever were in front of my body, and that your fingers were only good for typing. It seems that was misplaced loyalty.
So now I’m off to see my solicitor. I’m taking everything that’s mine, and I’ll get half of everything that’s left.
You might want to get a new oven.
No love whatsoever, and no longer yours,
Madeline
P.S. I’ve taken the letters too, but don’t worry, you’ll be seeing them in the newspaper soon.
P.P.S. I faked all of them.
Wow. Leaves me a little bit speechless and very much agreeing with your train of thought. Fantastic!
Cutting parting shot to a sorry sod that surely deserved it. But the dog detracts and at the same time, adds curiosity to the entire piece. I believe I enjoyed this very much.
Oh, Em… *wiping tears from my eyes* This was hilarious! I abso-freakin-lutely adored it.
I love a good, imaginative piece of revenge taking. Saving the best for last and the one prior about being more adventurous in his writing than the bedroom – that’s gotta cut to the quick.
marc nash
sweet storytelling, a mystery around poor Bertie to ponder and an intriguing narrator. great job.
Poor little doggie. But still, hilarious and satisfying revenge-taking. Perfect story. I’d love to see his face when he finds this, and the newspaper the next day.
I loved this, and had some moments of dark humour about the curious incident of the dog in the oven – inquiring minds want to know how come she baked the dog. A perfect example of how to write a letter of departure from a feisty woman who knows she deserves better.
” That’s why you should be in the oven and not Bertie. But life is unfair” is the best. I always appreciate a good dog roasting.
Goddess, this is good. That PPS – priceless. Poor poodle, though, but what a concept. Peace…
He sure messed with the wrong woman. Good revenge story, and having it all in a letter was excellent.
This is fantastically written. Sad about the dog, but she probably wishes she could roast the dog she’s writing the letter to.
Really enjoyed this – not only the interest factor of what happened to the poor dog, but your writing made me sympathise with the woman who has obviously been pushed and pushed by her “little git” of a husband for far too long. The PPS is a fantastic little dig at the end, perfect for that type of man!
Poor Bertie! I wonder what will concern him more, how she baked the dog, or where his manuscript is? Brilliant story!
Waow. Great story!
I love the build-up. And the comparisons. I do wonder how you accidentally bake a dog though :p But I love how she didn’t tell him.
Nooooooooo, not poor Bertie!
Very funny, Em!
*sob*
Poor Bertie
That first line had me gasp and then laugh in appreciation for being such a great hook!
“…not seeing any metaphorical significance in your watching the water swirl away” was brilliant.
Poor Bertie *sniff*
Well now, this was a departure from your normal writing style. I absolutely loved it. This is an excellent example of how versatile you’ve become. Keep up the great work!
Amazing! Clever.. brilliant, even!
Loved it!
~2
psst… you can tell me though… How did she accidentally cook the dog? It’s going to drive me nuts!
Amazing! You can just feel the emotional charge sparking off every word in here. The pacing is excellent – it builds to a good-old-fashioned punch right where it hurts a guy most and then ends with his utter humiliation, through her final comments. The closing “sentiment” was perfect. I also love the fact that she lords the mystery of what happened to his dog over his head. That’s insanely vengeful and great conflict. It makes me want to know too!
This is awesome! I love it. But you are cruel to leave us hanging like that, dangling the mystery not only in front of him but also in front of us! Now to go back for a second read….
Oh, how very hi….lar….i….ous….ly funny!!!!!!I wouldn’t publish those letters anytime soon. Let him stew!
[...] Newman’s “The Letter” …Sometimes it’s best said in a [...]
That was screwball funny in the way that it made you imagine her madcap mishaps, the scenes that drove her to snap. Just great. And I’m glad you didn’t tell how the dog accident happened. It’s good just the way it is.
Nooooooo – not the manuscript! Lol. Love the humor in this… Ps can the dog open the oven door? Very quirky and fun.
Oh! My face hurst from smiling too much. This was so funny and clever. Well done you!
Thanks for the wonderful comments everyone! People have been asking how the dog was accidentally cooked on Twitter. I do know how it happened, but I fear it would spoil the story if I revealed it. Maybe I’m just cruel too…
But really, thanks for commenting, this flash was a departure from my normal style so it was lovely to see it go down well. xx
I hate that the dog may have suffered. I’m going to believe she faked that somehow and the pooch is living with a loving family. Very nice change of style from you!
But the dog! I want to know!
Wonderful story and I too laughed out loud at the PPS
That was a wonderful read, but I don’t believe for a second the dog was baked by accident.