On Friday, December 23, 2005 4:53:51 PM UTC-5, Peanutjake wrote:   
   > The 12 Days of Christmas (The Letters)   
   >   
   >   
   > My dearest darling Edward, Dec 25   
   >   
   > What a wonderful surprise has just greeted me! That sweet   
   > partridge, in that lovely little pear-tree; what an   
   > enchanting, romantic, poetic present! Bless you, and thank   
   > you.   
   >   
   > Your deeply loving Emily.   
   >   
   > Beloved Edward, Dec 26   
   >   
   > The two turtle-doves arrived this morning, and are cooing   
   > away in the pear-tree as I write. I'm so touched and   
   > grateful!   
   > With undying love, as always, Emily.   
   >   
   > My darling Edwar d, Dec 27   
   >   
   > You do think of the most original presents! Who ever thought   
   > of sending anybody three French hens? Do they really come all   
   > the way from France? It's a pity we have no chicken coops,   
   > but I expect we'll find some. Anyway, thank you so much;   
   > they're lovely.   
   > Your devoted Emily.   
   >   
   > Dearest Edward, Dec 28   
   > What a surprise! Four calling birds arrived this morning.   
   > They are very sweet, even if they do call rather loudly -   
   > they make telephoning almost impossible - but I expect   
   > they'll calm down when they get used to their new home.   
   > Anyway, I'm very grateful, of course I am.   
   > Love from Emily.   
   >   
   > Dearest Edward, Dec 29   
   > The mailman has just delivered five most beautiful gold   
   > rings, one for each finger, and all fitting perfectly! A   
   > really lovely present! Lovelier, in a way, than birds, which   
   > do take rather a lot of looking after. The four that arrived   
   > yesterday are still making a terrible row, and I'm afraid   
   > none o f us got much sleep last night. Mother says she wants   
   > to use the rings to "wring" their necks. Mother has such a   
   > sense of humor. This time she's only joking, I think, but I   
   > do know what she means. Still, I love the rings.   
   > Bless you, Emily.   
   >   
   > Dear Edward, Dec 30   
   > Whatever I expected to find when I opened the front door   
   > this morning, it certainly wasn't six socking great geese   
   > laying eggs all over the porch. Frankly, I rather hoped that   
   > you had stopped sending me birds. We have no room for them,   
   > and they've already ruined the croquet lawn. I know you meant   
   > well, but let's call a halt, shall we?   
   > Love, Emily.   
   >   
   > Edward, Dec 31   
   > I thought I said NO MORE BIRDS. This morning I woke up to   
   > find no more than seven swans, all trying to get into our   
   > tiny goldfish pond. I'd rather not think what's happened to   
   > the goldfish. The whole house seems to be full of birds, to   
   > say nothing of what they leave behind them, so please,   
   > please, STOP! Your Emily.   
   >   
   > Jan 1   
   > Frankly, I prefer the birds. What am I to do with eight   
   > milkmaids? And their cows! Is this some kind of a joke? If   
   > so, I'm afraid I don't find it very amusing.   
   > Emily.   
   >   
   > Look here, Edward, Jan 2   
   > This has gone far enough. You say you're sending me nine   
   > ladies dancing. All I can say is, judging from the way they   
   > dance, they're certainly not ladies. The village just isn't   
   > accustomed to seeing a regiment of shameless viragos, with   
   > nothing on but their lipstick, cavorting round the green, and   
   > it's Mother and I who get the blame. If you value our   
   > friendship, which I do (less and less), kindly stop this   
   > ridiculous behavior at once!   
   > Emily.   
   >   
   > Jan 3   
   > As I write this letter, ten disgusting old men are prancing   
   > up and down all over what used to be the garden, before the   
   > geese and the swans and the cows got at it. And several of   
   > them, I have just noticed, are taking inexcusable liberties   
   > with the mi lkmaids. Meanwhile the neighbors are trying to   
   > have us evicted. I shall never speak to you again.   
   > Emily.   
   >   
   > Jan 4   
   > This is the last straw! You know I detest bagpipes! The   
   > place has now become something between a menagerie and a   
   > madhouse, and a man from the council has just declared it   
   > unfit for habitation. At least Mother has been spared this   
   > last outrage; they took her away yesterday afternoon in an   
   > ambulance. I hope you're satisfied.   
   >   
   > Jan 5   
   > Sir,   
   > Our client, Miss Emily Wilbraham, instructs me to inform you   
   > that with the arrival on her premises at 7:30 this morning of   
   > the entire percussion section of the Boston Symphony   
   > Orchestra, and several of their friends, she has no course   
   > left open to her but to seek an injunction to prevent you   
   > importuning her further. I am making arrangements for the   
   > return of much assorted livestock.   
   > I am, Sir, yours faithfully,   
   > Dewey, Cheetum & Howe,  Attorneys at law.   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)