THE REAR END: Valentine’s Day Approaches
look at these love letters locals love to leave
Mike Paulus, illustrated by Eva Paulus
It’s that time of year again. Valentine’s Day approaches. And much like the beguiling odors which fill the air around our downtown rubber factory, romance is a fume which floods the Chippewa Valley with intrigue and the lingering scent of danger.
But whom yearns for whom, one might ask? Whom is writing passionate scribbles of lust and for whom are these passionate scribbles scribbled?
Peruse with me now the hypothetical love letters locals have hypothetically inscribed for other locals …
My sweet, sweet, rental space! I know thine windows were once filled with confusing, overpriced knickknacks, and before that, thine heart (and the rest of you) was filled with an American Family Insurance office … but listen to me now! I can fill that void, fill the yawning space left by the failed signatories of your past rental agreements. My success is all but guaranteed. No one else can tattoo a butterfly as I can! And also, I can afford any security deposit thine heart desires because my dad is helping!
You’re a handsome lady, Sacred Heart, so tall and so square. Would you do me the honor? Would you allow a young whippersnapper like me the chance to dance with a more mature partner? Oh, what care we could provide together! Such wellness!
Well hey there, boys. How’s about you and your hundreds of actively engaged fans who actually leave the house after 9pm stop on down to my place for a little one-nighter? I got beer.
Hey, so, I just think you’re really cool, OK? I know I’m kind of, like, plain and all, but I’m sturdy. I really stand for something, you know? And if we could be together, I know a lot of people would just stare at us, or whatever, but is that so bad?
I want you. And I will have you.
I want you. And I will have you.
I want you. And I will have you.
Hey, I’m sorry. Really, really sorry. I don’t even know what I did, but I’m sorry, OK? Please come back. Whatever I did, I didn’t mean it. I really do love you, and you can’t just throw away the investment we’ve made. Do you even remember how much my snowboard cost? I do. It was $1,200. What about those new boots that match my snow pants and my jacket? And the friggin’ snowmobile!? Not cheap. (But for real, I miss you. Please be cool about this.)
How long’s it been, Manny? A hundred years? That’s a long time to spend being so wonderful. And I still love you, ya’ old fuddy-duddy. XOXO
I honestly can’t remember what my life was like before you moved to town and changed my whole world. Yeah, I’d been in relationships with other stores and other heated display racks of tender, savory poultry. But not like you. No, not like you, my little five-dollar bundle of juicy joy. Even the kids are excited to see you. Please don’t ever leave us, Costco Rotisserie Chicken. We’d be lost without you.