Dear John Letter - 10/6

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RE: Dear John Letter - 10/6

Postby inmyownwrite » Tue Oct 13, 2009 5:24 pm

Dear John:
You have allowed the cats to claw me for the last time. They rip me to shreds and leave their fur all over me, which causes me to sneeze uncontrollably. You also allow the children to jump up and down on me, straining my springs to the max. I have tolerated this for too many years and I'm at the end of my proverbial rope. I cannot take the stress anymore. Therefore, I am leaving you for good. Do not try to find me because I will just run farther away. I am going to a happier place where I will be treated the way I should be. I would like to say I will miss you but I don't think I will. Your callous attitude toward me has made me just as callous toward you and the two of us have reached a fork in the road where we can no longer live together. I only wish you the best and I hope you find someone to replace me that will give you as many years of patience and love as I have.

The Sofa. :(

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RE: Dear John Letter - 10/6

Postby K.Weckerly » Wed Oct 14, 2009 6:58 am

Dear Kyle,
It's so hard to write this, but I feel I must so that you understand why I am gone and why it is not your fault.
When we met in college it was a wonderful time for both of us. Because I could collapse easily and be stored conveniently in many locations, we traveled places and saw amazing things.
I'll never forget them. Those are the memories I hope you will remember most when you think of me.
You see, that was college. Now you're married and have a child on the way. I know you think it's great that we're still together, me being the central piece of furniture for your den, but Kyle, you must understand, I was meant to go places.
College was our time together and now it's over.
I have found someone else to travel with, and he's a good person. Please don't be angry with me and please, don't try to find me.
I know this hurts, but I couldn't live like this any longer.
With all the love that my cushions can hold-
Your folding folding couch.

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RE: Dear John Letter - 10/6

Postby Funks21 » Mon Oct 19, 2009 1:23 am

Dear John

It’s me, your table.

You remember me, right? Little coffee table in the living room, just in front of the TV?

Yeah, you know me.

I know because you’ve been using me for the last three years to put things on. I’m talking about mugs, books, newspapers, food, whatever, but that’s not a problem, hell it’s what I’m here for.
I even grudgingly take the weight when one of your friends passes out on me every so often. But that’s still not a problem.

I do a lot of things for you, but you know what really gets me?
It’s not cool when you kick me and then blame me for it. It hurts my feelings, man.

I’m just sitting here, minding my own business, holding up all your junk and then you kick me. Hard. It hurts too but I’m not complaining, I know it happens. But it’s not cool to blame me for it. Mind your own damn feet. I was just sitting here, I didn’t cause it.

So I guess what I’m trying to say is, if you walk into me, you don’t even need to apologize, I’m just a table. But don’t get mad at me just because you hurt yourself. It hurts my feelings when I see you jumping around, shouting about ‘That damn table!’ and screaming about throwing me out. Just stop it.

I hope we’re still cool.

Forever yours,

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Re: Dear John Letter - 10/6

Postby boredtotears » Tue Oct 20, 2009 2:53 am

You user.
You have used me for years.
Every night the same sad story.
You sit down ( hey ya put on some pounds buddy), spill soda on me, trail crumbs into my crevices...
then you lean back and snore and slobber... and only that if I am lucky ( lay of the burritos man!).
You practically jerk my handle off when you wake up in middle of the night... and hey that dog of yours just wasn't part of the package!

That pretty lady... ya you know the one.. and so do I... since you use me like bed..... she got me a better deal...
so its off to greener pastures....I am gonna get me some new threads... and a new handle..


Have a good one with your proper winged back chair... that pretty lady sure was smiling when she had it brought in......


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RE: Dear John Letter - 10/6

Postby frostfan » Tue Oct 20, 2009 1:28 pm

Dear L____,

Hate California; taking the recliner. You seem to care. You’ve spent the better part of your personal life napping on me, and that must mean something. But I can’t shake the feeling that you no longer see me as your one and only.

Something tells me you’ve been sneaking out on me, looking at leather couches that will remain cool on those blistering Santa Ana-whipped days. I can feel it all the way down to my coils.

And “R”? We’ll you’ve reduced “R” to a mere dumping ground for books because you’ve run out of shelf space. It’s just too hard to watch as the mound creeps across her forest green felt.

So we’re headed out in search of a new landlord -- maybe even back to Michigan where our plush, flannel-ly covers will be worshipped by a member of the sun-starved masses for their magical, heat-generating powers.

Face it, we just weren’t destined to live in California. Flannel-covered anything: the desert : : a bikini : Pluto.

All the best!

Your Former Sofa

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RE: Dear John Letter - 10/6

Postby chellenator » Wed Oct 21, 2009 8:48 am

My Dearest Lily,
As I sat in my favorite spot near the bay window this afternoon contemplating what words of solace I could offer, I couldn’t help but admire the beauty displayed before me. Tall graceful trees are showered in pale pink blossoms, flowers are emerging from a wintery grave and children are enjoying the long-forgotten warmth of sunshine. All would seem perfect and delightful if it weren’t for the betrayal I feel deep within. I am no longer able to put my feelings aside.
How I have hoped that this day would never be. Our beginning was sweet, and as all others surmised, we were a perfect match like none have ever been before. Our deep bond was surreal – the way my blue stripes, accented with cream and tan, matched your favorite blue polyester pajamas trimmed with lace and yellow daisy accents; and the way you found reassurance and comfort by laying in my arms and allowing me to touch your back tenderly.
I will also be forever grateful for the adventures we shared together – a little violence, but mostly action and drama. Nothing like a chick-flick to the make day complete... Remembering our long nights together, and sometimes days, brings me everlasting joy – a joy that had become a part of me that I boldly believed none other could replace. Until now…
I do not deny that my feelings for another began a few months ago after I noticed a moving truck across the street. My spirit sprang when I saw her glide into view before vanishing inside her new home. Although she's my longer counterpart, same blue stripes and last name, Copenhagen, we are soul-mates and destined to be together for the remainder of our days.
I beg for your understanding and forgiveness.

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RE: Dear John Letter - 10/6

Postby Electrawriter » Wed Oct 21, 2009 2:46 pm

The wind blew the leaves making sounds only those nearby and listening could hear. Twirling up and about the leaves danced upon the yellow lawn. As he did almost every day, he put his hnd in the mailbox. Pulling out an envelope, he opened the door and went inside. The dining area was lit with candles as he entered the house. He could see the light from the doorway, as he pulled off his coat. He walked into the kitchen where the aroma of a home cooked meal greeted him. He walked from the kitchen into the dimly lit dining room. Slowly, he ascended up the stairs. The stairs were located beside the pantry, used by servants many years before. He placed the envelope on the night table, and walked into the attached bathroom. After a few minutes, he returned to the bedroom. He opened the letter and began to read. He did not finish the letter. Instead, he removed his trousers, his shirt and his underwear. He pulled on his pajamas, and went into the bathroom again. He had known it to be true before he read the letter. He didnt need to finish reading it. He took the pills and went to his bed. Thoughts of her danced in his head. He remembered when they met and how he had been taken by her iris blue eyes. He had bought her a dress one year that matched those eyes. He had noticed when he hung up his pants that the dress was not in the closet. That was likely the dress she had chosen to meet her new lover. He knew something had been going on for a while now. She had seemed giddy and excited about something. She wouldn't tell him what it was that made the light glow in her eyes again. Like the light that shone when she looked into his. He knew that he could no longer live without her love.

The next day, I arrived to clean the house. I was surprised to find the oven was still on and that candles had been burnt down to nothing. The dinner in the oven was ruined, however the temperature was low so it wasnt really burnt, just really dried out. I had called this place my home the last few years. Until recently, the Simpsons had taken me in and I took care of the cleaning and gardening. I knew that Mrs. Simpson had been planning a surprise for her husband. He had been ill recently and she knew his back bothered him alot. She had gone to the City to pick out a new bed. One of those new, fancy kind that move up and down. She had told me that I could have the old bed if I wanted it, now that I had my own place. I loved working for the Simpsons. I hesitated before I went up the stairs, I had that feeling in the gut of my stomach that one has when they know something is wrong, but not sure what. I got to the top of the stairs and called out "Mr. Simpson?" I glanced at my watch. It was just after 8:15 am. Mr. Simpson was a man of habit. He was usually up by this time and enjoying his paper while he waited for me to bring me his coffee in his office. He was not in his office.

I knocked softly on the door. I pushed it open...Mr. Simpson was in bed. Beside him, was the letter that Mrs. Simpson had shown me earlier. It read "Dear John, you know the years we spent together were good. You know that there will always be a connection between us, however, I am afraid its time for me to move on. You will find that there is a casserole in the oven for you . I know you would not want to talk to me about this, so I made the decision on my own. I am leaving you. I am going to a good home however. Sadie has promised to take good care of me, and in my place, a new bed will arrive tommorrow. Your wife wanted me to let you know that she loves you and she is going to be home tommorrow afternoon to be there when the new bed arrives. Love , your old feather bed. "

As I walked closer to him, I realized Mr. Simpson wasnt breathing... I screamed...

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RE: Dear John Letter - 10/6

Postby Electrawriter » Wed Oct 21, 2009 2:49 pm

THIS WAS A DIFFICULT PROMPT !!!! Any feedback is appreciated ! Electrawriter

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RE: Dear John Letter - 10/6

Postby sparkyharky » Thu Oct 22, 2009 8:10 am

I enter the house from a busy morning at work only to trip over my brand new Australian Stock Saddle thrown haphazardly in the doorway. There seems to be a note crammed under the overgirth.
"What's THIS!", I exclaim as I pull it out and rip it open. "Where'd the saddle trunk go?"
My brand new custom made saddle trunk is GONE!
"I've been ROBBED!" I scream to my roomie, "ROBBED..Do you hear me?!? They even left a ransom note!"
"Are you SURE?" My roomie asks in total shock. "I mean. REALLY, Who would try to ransom a SADDLE TRUNK, even it was custom made?"
"If it isn't a ransom note, then what is it? Do you know anythiing about this????" I ask incredulously.
"Not a thing, why don't you open the note and read it before you call the police."
I open the note cautiously, half expecting something to jump out of the paper at me. My roommate can be a practical joker but she honestly doesn't appear to be in on this one.
The note reads:
Dear Candy,
Sorry to drop this on you with no warning but I hate it here. When we met I thought you loved me. I had no idea you were going to stuff me full with that awful saddle! That thing is heavy! I didn't sign on for this. I'm going back to Ocala to the shop and file a complaint. You don't love me and you never did. It was all just a glorious cover up for you to have someplace to stow that awful saddle so your roomates wouldn't complain. Put the saddle in the barn where it belongs!
Your Saddle Trunk
Now I am completely in a state of shock. I've NEVER!!!! No, this can't be. Furniture can't write letters, can it?

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RE: Dear John Letter - 10/6

Postby Granny007 » Thu Oct 22, 2009 11:15 am

I remember the day you found me abandoned in a trash heap, it was raining, your drove by as I caught your eye. You made a u-turn and drove slowly by me. You made another u-turn, got out of your car and walked over to me. I was in bad need of repair and refinishing. You gave me a good once over and decided to take me home.

We came in the door, your husband had a disgusted look on his face as he said, "Whose trash is that and why did you bring it home?" We both ignored him and went into the bedroom. You dried me off and visually planned where to begin the refinishing process.

You worked on me that weekend; sanding, staining and polishing me all by had. You stood back and looked at your finished job. You pulled out one of my drawers, I did not glide, I sort or skidded opened and closed, you left the room. When you reentered the room you had a candle held in one hand and matches in the other. I shuddered in fear, you were disappointed with me, dissatisfied, and decided you would put me out of my misery.

You headed toward me, I knew we were going to head outback, you were going to light the candle, set me on fire and watch me burn to ashes.

I watched as you lit the match and ran it along the side of the candle very quickly. Pulled out my drawer and slowly rubbed the candle along my bottom edges; put my drawer back sliding it opened and closed a few times, until you were satisfied, you followed the same process with each drawer until you were satisfied, and each drawer glided ever so smoothly opened and closed with no resistance.

You stood up and smiled, you finally had the secretary you have always wanted, the one you would use to write your short stories on until you had enough to compile into a book.

At first I was kept clutter free, fastidiously dusted everyday and polished weekly. I slowly became a catch all, keys, discarded mail, and old magazines. One Saturday afternoon a glass half full of iced tea was set upon me without a thought, not even a coaster for protection. I could feel the sticky glass becoming attached to my finish, then tiny flying insects began flying back and forth, eventually landing on my surface to inspect the contents of the glass.

Before I knew it there were swarms of them flying from every direction, diving in for a taste from the sweat contents of the glass; flying in and back out from the glass, landing down on my surface with their little sticky feet. It was horrible, more than I could bare, or so I thought.

Then came the ants, climbing up my legs, up along the my sides, along my drawers, the violation upon me became too much to bare. I realized I was brought home merely on impulse, we were only a fling, with no plans for the future.

I thank you; however, now is the time to part ways while we are still friends, good bye and good luck.


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