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The Journal of Literary Satire | Hastily Written & Slopilly Edited
Tuesday, January 13, 2004

Postcards from My Bed

by Dennis Proctor

Hey! Your bed here. I know it’s not customary for the vacationer to receive postcards from those he’s abandoned at home, but I had a free sec and I thought it was a clever idea, so, ya know, hope ya like it. I also hope you’re having a good time. Anyway, I’ve made a gigantic batch of brownies every single day since you left. I’ll try to save some for you, if I don’t EAT THEM ALL MYSELF! HA!

Earnestly yours,
your bed

Hey, it’s just me, your bed. I just thought I’d drop you another quick line to let you know that things are super wonderful here. You’re probably reading this in one of those super uncomfortable hotel beds, eh? I saw an investigative report about how most hotel beds are just crawling with fecal matter and boogers. Have I mentioned that before? You’re better off sleeping on the floor, friend. Anyway, I’m sure I’ll see you soon, if you don’t DIE FROM POOP AND BOOGER POISONING! HA!

Best wishes,
your bed

Hey again! Did you get that last quick line I dropped you? I tried out that new electric blanket you got from your mom for your birthday. It’s super great, but it took me a while to find the perfect setting. My first thought was to crank that sucker up to “10,” you know, so we’d get the biggest bang for our buck. Let me tell you, pal, “10” is way too hot for anyone who doesn’t have protruding horns and a fire-red tail, if you know what I’m saying. Seriously, if you think carrying a big, spiky pitchfork around is the perfect way to accessorize your outfit, by all means, click-clack your way up to the absolute highest setting. I, on the other hand, will catch my Zs with the blanket on “6.” If you ask me, the current “8” setting should be the new “10,” “9” should be “Are You Kidding!?” and “10” should be (sing it with me) “How Do You Sleep While Your Bed is Bur-ning!?” Oh well, we can chat more about blankets, heated and otherwise, when you return. This is getting to be a book, so I better go. I don’t think you’re supposed to write on the FRONT OF THE POSTCARD! HA!

your bed

Hey hey hey. When are you coming home again? I hope you’re enjoying all of my homemade postcards. Unfortunately, the last one I mailed was a bit too witty for its own good, as it was returned yesterday afternoon. It seems that, even with a stamp affixed and an address clearly printed in mustard, a piece of low-fat peppered-turkey lunchmeat is still not technically a “postcard.” I’ll save it so you can check it out when you get back. Hopefully that won’t be too much longer, otherwise your new moldy turkey postcard is liable to GROW LEGS AND RUN AWAY! HA!

Missing you,
your bed

Hey! No, not the kind for horses! I just read in the paper that there’s some kind of “mad bed disease” going around. Have you heard about this, folks? Yeah, apparently the first sign is recurrent brownie-baking, followed by erratic postcard-writing. Before you know it, the affected bed is likely to SUFFOCATE THE NEIGHBOR WHO’S BEEN STOPPING BY TO WATER YOUR PLANTS. HA!

Not jokingly yours,
your bed

Dennis Proctor invented condensed milk in the 1850s and later the popular Lazy Susan table aid, but he struck out with one other invention: the poorly-received "meat biscuit." He was an editor of Haypenny. He is Deckie Holmes.