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Dear Montana,
This is Tansy, you know, the girl you threw away for the high life, but that’s
another story. How did I find this address? Well, if you find the address of
the agent, you’ve found your address. You may be happy to know that we’re never
coming back to play with you anymore, especially seeing how you’ll always be
giving concerts and stuff.
We started our own band yesterday, but the others left because we were singing
a song that they didn’t like. A song about you.
Well, I won’t keep you reading...you probably have some big concert to get
ready for. I can practically hear your “fans” cheering for you. But I just want
to let you know...we are definitely not cheering for you. And even though we
miss you, that doesn’t mean we want to see you again.
You may also find it interesting that Wynn and Mike have left the band that
we started to start their own. See what you’ve done? You’ve set all of our friendships
on a negative domino effect.
Good Luck (Pssht...yeah right),
Tansy
***
The young black Gelert looked nervously around him. There he was, trapped
in the middle of a large blank room. Four cement walls stood coldly surrounding
him. The only objects in the room were a drum set and two other pets, a brown
Poogle named Scratch and a red Aisha named Mash. Montana winced as the large
microphone in front of him squealed loudly.
The Gelert didn’t feel welcome. From the minute
he arrived at the studio, not a single word was spoken to him except orders.
When he was introduced to Mash and Scratch, they simply growled at him. He winced
whenever they ran their black polished nails through their sleek fur and smirked
evilly at him. But there was no time to worry about being welcome. If only his
friends were here with them, he missed them so much...
“Okay,” a voice crackled in the microphone, “we’re
going to do this right the first time. We have a concert tomorrow, and if you
guys sound like trash like you’ve been sounding, no concert, you hear? We’re
taking it from the top. One! Two! Ready, go!”
***
Dear Tansy,
This is Montana. I cried when I got your letter. Your words really cut me deep.
I thought I knew you better than that. I thought you’d be a friend even when
you were disappointed. But I didn’t disappoint you on purpose. I’m no heartless
fool, though I may have seemed like it at times.
To tell you the truth, I do have a concert. Tomorrow. At the Concert Hall.
I really don’t feel ready for it. I wish you guys were here. I really do. But
sometimes you just have to let things go...
Maybe someday I’ll come back home. Maybe we can restart our band. Or maybe
our friendship.
Your (former) Friend,
Montana
***
“So, tell me Mike,” Wynn asked as he lazily sipped from his tall glass of Neocola,
“when’s the last time we played some real music?”
“Uh...” The Eyrie rested a head in his paws and
thought deeply for awhile. “Uh...what about that time in fourth grade when we
had to play recorder in music?”
Wynn growled and rolled his eyes. “No, not that
kind of music! Rock music!”
“Oh.” The Eyrie again rested his head in his
paws, his eyes wandering aimlessly. “Probably...last Monday. At practice.”
“No!” Wynn slammed the small table with his paws.
“Don’t you see?” The Mynci firmly grasped his friend’s wrists and started shaking
him gently. “It’s time for us to let it go! Fly the coop! We’ve got to set ourselves
free!”
“What...” Mike’s eyes flashed question marks.
“What do you mean? We have to leave the soda shop?”
“No, we don’t have to set ourselves free from
here!” Wynn leapt on top of the table and spread his paws wide in front of him,
a broad grin on his face. “It’s time to strike it out on our own. We have to
start our own band!”
“For real?” Mike rose from the table and smiled.
“Ooh, that would be awesome! I know what we should name it!”
“What?”
“Okay, you won’t believe this,” Mike beamed.
“Here it is...The Two Pets That Were Originally a Part of a Band Called the
Thunderbolts That Was Led by a Mean Snob But Then We Had To Leave It Because
The Leader Was Being Mean To Us Band!”
Wynn’s face dropped. “Whatever. Let’s go. We
have to get started.”
***
Dear Montana,
This is Wynn and Mike. We just wanted to let you know Tansy gave you this address
so that we could all bomb you with nasty letters! Ha ha!
We’re starting our own band. We don’t know what we’re going to call it yet,
but just be happy that we’re not coming back! Now you can boss around all the
other pets that you want! Hear us out, we are never coming back to your house
ever again, not for anything!
Not Yours,
Mike and Wynn
PS - We are NEVER coming back! We’re serious!
PPS - Send Money for Snacks We are REALLY not coming back!
***
Dear Mike, Wynn and Tansy,
I don’t know what to say to you guys. It seems like you’ve turned on me forever,
but I still miss you guys. To tell the truth, I feel like an outcast from the
rest of the world. But this letter is not really a plea for sympathy, it’s an
apology. Even now as I get ready for the big concert tonight, I still think
about all of the fans that will crowd the arena, the flashing and dancing lights
of the stage, and I know that you guys won’t be there to share it with me. I
can hear the shouting enthusiasts and can feel them pushing and shoving me on
all sides begging me to sign their programs. But I can feel my paw stiffening.
I know I can’t sign them without you guys signing them first.
I really, really, REALLY miss you guys >._.
The End
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