The Twelve Days of Christmas!

( – promoted by buhdydharma )

December 14, 1972

My dearest darling John:

Who ever in the whole world would dream of getting a real

Partridge in a Pear Tree? How can I ever express my pleasure.

Thank you a hundred times for thinking of me this way.

My love always,


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December 15, 1972

Dearest John:

Today the postman brought your very sweet gift. Just imagine

two turtle doves. I’m just delighted at your very thoughtful gift.

They are just adorable.

All my love,


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December 16, 1972

Dear John:

Oh! Aren’t you the extravagant one. Now I must protest. I

don’t deserve such generosity, three French hens. They are just

darling but I must insist, you’ve been too kind.

All my love,


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December 17, 1972

Dear John:

Today the postman delivered four calling birds. Now really,

they are beautiful, but don’t you think enough is enough. You are

being too romantic.



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December 18, 1972

Dearest John:

What a surprise. Today the postman delivered five golden

rings, one for every finger. You’re just impossible, but I love it.

Frankly, all those birds squawking were beginning to get on my nerves.

All my love,


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December 19, 1972

Dear John:

When I opened the door today there were actually six geese

laying on my front steps. So you’re back to the birds again huh?

These geese are huge. Where will I ever keep them? The neighbors

are complaining and I can’t sleep through the racket. Please stop.



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December 20, 1972


What’s with you and those freaking birds?? Seven swans a

swimming. What kind of damn joke is this? There’s bird poop all

over the house and they never stop the racket. I can’t sleep at night

and I’m a nervous wreck. It’s not funny. So stop those freaking birds.



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December 21, 1972

O.K. Buster:

I think I prefer the birds. What the hell am I going to do

with 8 maids a milking? It’s not enough with all those birds and 8

maids a milking, but they had to bring their damn cows. There is manure

all over the lawn and I can’t move in my own house. Just lay off me, smartass.


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December 22, 1972

Hey Shithead:

What are you? Some kind of sadist? Now there’s nine pipers

playing. And Christ do they play. They’ve never stopped chasing

those maids since they got here yesterday morning. The cows are

getting upset and they’re stepping all over those screeching birds.

What am I going to do? The neighbors have started a petition to evict me.

You’ll get yours !


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December 23, 1972

You rotten prick:

Now there’s ten ladies dancing. I don’t know why I call

those sluts ladies. They’ve been balling those pipers all night long.

Now the cows can’t sleep and they’ve got diarrhea. My living room is

a river of shit. The Commissioner of Buildings has subpoenaed me to

give cause why the building shouldn’t be condemned.

I’m calling the police on you !


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December 24, 1972

Listen F*ckhead:

What’s with those eleven lords a leaping on those maids and

ladies? Some of those broads will never walk again. Those pipers

ran through the maids and have been committing sodomy with the cows.

All twenty-three of the birds are dead. They’ve been trampled to

death in the orgy. I hope you’re satisfied, you rotten vicious swine.

Your sworn enemy,


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December 25, 1972

Dear Sir:

This is to acknowledge your latest gift of twelve fiddlers fiddling

which you have seen fit to inflict on our client, Miss Agnes McHolstein.

The destruction, of course, was total. All correspondence should

come to our attention. If you should attempt to reach Miss

McHolstein at Happy Dale Sanitarium, the attendants have been

instructed to shoot you on sight.

With this letter please find attached a warrant for your arrest.


Law Offices of

Badger, Bender and Chole



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    • Edger on January 3, 2011 at 00:54

    To all those dogs in washington….

  2. A rather bawdy parody, but, oh, so humorous!

    HNY!!!!  🙂

  3. on an exceptionally springlike day to ride the horses, take the kids for sled rides, have a fire down by the pond and manifest general joy to the entire universe.  Ok, now why were suck things totally and completely fucked up?  Well, my daughter had company and they insisted upon merely sitting and talking about what was and what was not conceptually fucking illegal finacially via their conceptual mis-informed opinions of IRS tax law.  No, I mean literally all fucking day from eight thirty in the morning to fucking three thirty in the afternoon about this and other fucking S&M government submissive compliance to fucking authority shit.  Is this the fucking lost generation the “Illuminati” wants to eliminate?

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