Thank You Notes for the 12 Days of Christmas

(Here’s something I found in the book If It’s Raining This Must Be the Weekend by Nancy Stahl, copyright 1979.)

Thank You Notes for the 12 Days of Christmas

Friday, December 14
My Dearest True Love:

Along with the orthodontist’s bill for $75.50 and three Christmas cards from total strangers, I received your pear tree today. You shouldn’t have. I mean, every time I look at it (which of necessity is fairly often, as it takes up half the living room), I think of you. Oh, yes, I almost forgot to mention the enchanting little Cornish hen perched on one branch. Absolutely charming. A little stringy, perhaps, but a welcome change from hamburger.

Saturday, December 15
My Dear True Love:

Gosh! Another pear tree. Another stringy Cornish hen, too. Have I ever mentioned how badly I need a new steam iron? Until our son builds a coop for the pigeons, I’m keeping them in the coat closet.

Sunday, December 16
Dear True Love:

We couldn’t coax today’s Cornish hen out of the tree; he just sits there on the top branch and throws pears at us. Thank heavens the coop is finished; you should see what those pigeons did to my hat. By the way, those three chickens you sent are terribly high-strung. They leaped out of the box, shrieked “Mon Dieu!” and ran under the sofa.

Tuesday, December 18
Dear T.L.

I’m sorry I didn’t write yesterday, but since our son has lost interest in pigeons, I had to clean the coop myself. I was delighted with the five rings. I didn’t know there was such a thing as two-carat gold.

Wednesday, December 19
Hi:

We chopped today’s tree into kindling, which so frightened the Cornish hen that he flew through the picture window. The geese have made themselves quite at home, so much so that they follow us around, nipping at our heels like puppies—big puppies! Big untrained puppies! I finally understand what is meant by the phrase “loose as a goose”.

Thursday, December 20
My Dear True Love:

Today the post office delivered seven swans. They have been temporarily billeted in the bathtub, where they are unsuccessfully attempting to mate with the rubber duck.

Friday, December 21
Dear T.L.:

I was ecstatic today to be greeted by eight maids. Unfortunately they refused to deal with the mess that the birds have created. They insist on milking. In view of the fact that good help is so hard to come by, could you see your way clear to sending us a cow?

Saturday, December 22
My Dear Sir:

I was puzzled and dismayed today to receive nine members of British nobility, when what I really needed was a cow. When they aren’t busy bounding over the furniture, they are engaging in an unseemly amount of slap and tickle with the maids, who are not remotely interested in milking anymore.

Monday, December 24
Sir:

Regarding your gifts of the past two days, the last thing I need is thirty-one additional houseguests. Especially since the bathtub is full of swans. Besides, I am not overly fond of bagpipes, believing in fact that the only good bagpipe is a dead bagpipe. It is impossible to concentrate on the on the morning paper with eleven pipers marching around the breakfast table, followed by twenty girls frugging to “Loch Lomond”.

Tuesday, December 25
Now Hear This!

With the arrival today of twelve bongo players, there are now 140 people drumming, piping, dancing, leaping, and not milking. Not to mention 184 birds (less the two we ate and the one that flew through the picture window), doing birdlike things such as picking lice out of their tails.

I am returning all forty gold rings. The engagement is off! Do you hear me? Off!

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