Saturday, January 3, 2015


On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me nine pipers piping…

Dearest Jonathan,                                                                       1-3

Nine pipers rang my bell this morning, at a most premature hour. I was startled from a sound sleep by the wailing of their bagpipes. I sent Matilda for another cold milk poultice. Trent, their maestro, was very understanding of my distress, and quieted them until a more reasonable time. He has been most courteous, which is more than I can say of you, Jonathan. Their presence is most highly improper, but they insisted, and have been tormenting their pipes in my parlor for two hours now. Jonathan, what must I do? I know they’re friends of yours, but in a house with unattended women… This is… This is scandalous, Jonathan! Please come. NOW, Jonathan.   




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