Please Invite Me To Your Friendsgiving


First of all; I promise it won’t be like last time.

I know we don’t know each other very well. I know you probably think I stole your stereo last year (I did) and I know that I have nothing to offer in relation to food or polite conversation, but what I do have? What I do have is seventeen cigarettes and a promise that if I bring a gun I will make sure it isn’t used until it absolutely needs to be. Trust me, this time, I know what I’m doing. Last year I’d just gotten the thing. Got a little too cocky. Billy accepts my apology, why can’t you guys? And before you say anything; yes, he can apologize from Heaven and he did. You guys just weren’t around at the time.

I promise that if someone brings up how little sleep they’d gotten I won’t bring up my night terrors or the fact that my eyelids won’t close all the way because of what Coach Robertson did to me in the woodshop. While I won’t apologize for what happened in the woodshop, because it wasn’t my fault and my therapist says that it isn’t my responsibility to carry that shame, I will apologize for bringing it up all the time and really bumming everybody out. I won’t show anyone my collection of pictures of roadkill and I won’t ask anyone to listen to my new thrash/rap/death metal band, The Skullfuckin’ Bitches. Most of all, I promise that, if this time, my gun does happen to accidentally fatally wound someone, I won’t get nervous and not let you guys call an ambulance. This Friendsgiving, if I do the crime, I’ll do the time.

I also promise not to steal anything. I know that in the past you’ve thought I’d stolen a lot of stuff from your guys’ house, and while this is true, I did not appreciate the accusation, and if Billy hadn’t have been such a dick about it maybe he’d be carving that turkey up with the rest of us this year. Okay, sorry, that’s not fair. Not to you guys and especially not to Billy. What happened to him was at least 50% my fault. I’ve come to terms with that now, but he’s got to take some of the blame. Just because I look the way I do while wearing a trenchcoat in and out of season doesn’t mean I’m just some common criminal. I mean, I am, but come on. I don’t get on you guys for your flaws. Like you, Jodie, you’re way too nice. Bet you wanna shoot me right now, huh, Jodie? Now you know how I felt last year.

Come on, guys, please. Billy would have wanted it. I bet he’s looking down on us right now, thinking, “Oh, great, I guess I died for nothing.” I know you guys aren’t going to love this theory, but I truly believe that Billy didn’t just die in some freak accident about some stolen jewelry and a fridge door. Billy died so the spirit of Friendsgiving could live on. Billy knew that a holiday this powerful needed at least one human sacrifice. So he goaded me, egged me on, pushed my buttons in just the right way to make me go on one of my patented homicidal rages and save us all from a mediocre Friendsgiving. I, for one, would like to honor his sacrifice. I would also like to get out of this asylum for the first time in almost a year and they won’t let me unless someone comes and signs these papers.

So, please, I beg you, invite me to Friendsgiving this year. I’ll be on my best behavior. If not, can someone at least pick me up and drop me off at a gas station or something? I just want to see the sun again.