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Dear Mr. President

Excuse me, sir, your pants are on fire.

 

Yes, i am talking to you, sir.

This is quite a mess you have made,

you starry-eyed dreamer.

Not that it was perfect in the beginning.

 

Nothing is.

 

When my grandfather got old,

he made sure to dress well.

If he was to die on any

given day, he intended to

do it in his Sunday best.

My grandfather died in a

unisex hospital gown.

 

When i was growing up,

Mom always made sure

i wore clean underwear.

It would be shameful

to die in ***** ones.

 

Speaking of growing up,

i was raised on Reaganomics.

It doesn't matter which side of

the aisle you stand on these days,

because Reagan defeated communism

through the clever use of money.

 

When my grandmother was set to pass,

she faced the changing seasons with

poise and dignity.  She was

ready to move on, to reunite with

loved ones lost.

My grandmother died in a

unisex hospital gown.

 

My best friend, Peter, didn't

put much stock in appearances.

He was funny and sarcastic.

We all loved him like a

brother.  Peter's mom buried

him in brand new Ecko

gear.  He died in boxer

shorts on the floor of a

ramshackle apartment

blue in the face from a

****** overdose.

 

Thank god none of these

people will ever need healthcare.

 

Mr. President, sir, i am no

Republican.

 

i am an American.

 

You do remember us, don't you?

How silly of me...of course you don't.

You were busy watching your legacy.

 

i would have watched it better, if

it had been my name

at risk.

My name is all i have.

 

When Bill Clinton was president,

he lied about getting a

*******

But we forgave him.

It was just a *******

It's not like it was our

privacy or healthcare at stake.

Or our economy.

 

Have you dreamed about any

of those things, sir?

Or just your legacy?

 

Who knows?

How well do we ever know anyone?

 

Christmas is right around

the corner, and i and

others have made you

a fine gift, a lovely suit.

It's invisible.

You probably won't notice.

 

No matter...

one day you will have to

remove your flaming pants.

To try on your new suit.

Or, god forbid, to put on a

unisex hospital gown.

 

And then you will finally

see your legacy.

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Written by
derek-yohn
Published
Nov 6, 2013
Lines·Words
81·391
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