From Blaire

By M. Slusarewicz '23


Dear Sir or Madam,

Welcome to the neighborhood! I wish our first communication could be on better terms, but I’m afraid I need to let you know that the fence that you’ve erected around your yard is three inches taller than permitted by the neighborhood association. I hate to be a nagging nellie, but without laws we’d be living in an anarchist state.

I’m excited to get to know you better,

Blaire


Dear Sir or Madam,

This is embarrassing, but unfortunately I have to be “that girl” again. Today, on my daily stroll, I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve replaced the standard black vinyl house numbers on your mailbox with self-adhesive 3D models. While admittedly brushed copper is not the tackiest color you could’ve chosen, I beg you to consider the unity of the neighborhood. I understand the importance of self-expression, but I draw the line at revolution.

Also consider what people might think… you don’t wanna be like one of those “alt brides” (whores) that wears champagne pink instead of white on their big day. It gives people the wrong impression.

Just looking out for you :)

Blaire


Dear Sir or Madam,

It has recently been brought to my attention that you keep parking your 2007 Light Khaki Metallic Dodge Nitro with a in front of my driveway despite the fact that you have a perfectly good driveway of your own. The fence is one thing, and I guess I can let you off the hook for the mailbox, but I’m confused as to how you don’t already know not to block driveways, as this rule applies in every neighborhood. Please rectify the situation.

Feel free to ask to borrow jam, though. I still haven’t seen your face.

Blaire


Dear Sir or Madam,

Today when gazing out over my hydrangeas (which are doing quite well this year), I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve yet to correct your fence. Of course, I immediately assumed you’ve just been a little bit busy lately, so I went to check on your mailbox and saw that you haven’t corrected the numbers yet, either!

This is embarrassing because I probably sound particular or even (heaven forbid) neurotic, but I’m actually an easygoing person. It’s just that I know other people in the neighborhood care about these things and are too shy to tell me, so I’ve taken on the burden of communication for their sakes.

Plus, the fence blocks sunlight for my chrysanthemums (which are also lovely this year).

Blaire


Dear Sir or Madam,

I have given you six hours since my last note but have seen no changes. Fences take a while to put up. I get that. But you can Amazon new number vinyls to your house in one day.

While I understand that replacing the numbers is probably frustrating because you already bought the gaudy ones, if money is a problem maybe you should reconsider home-ownership. Mortgages are a big responsibility and some people are just naturally better at this lifestyle than others. There’s no shame in living in an apartment complex. I’m sure those people who live there are very nice. Plus, if everyone got to live in the neighborhood, the community wouldn’t be as special as it is!

If your heart is set on the house, though, you should start a garden :)

Blaire


Dear Sir or Madam,

This morning I noticed three dandelions in your yard and they made me realize I need to report your fence to the Homeowners Association.

I’m doing this for your own good.

Blaire <3

Dear Sir or Madam,

I know you thought I wouldn’t see you leave your house in a ski mask, remove feces from the dog waste disposal bin, and plant it in my yard at four in the morning, but that’s when I wake up for my jog. If this behavior is some misplaced retaliation for reporting your fence, you should know I did you a favor. That fence was clearly very cheap and therefore very ugly. I’m losing my patience quickly, and at this rate, it may become hard for us to be friends at all!

Let’s put this pettiness behind us,

Blaire


Dear Sir or Madam (seriously, what should I call you?),

I’ve noticed a fourth dandelion pop up in your garden and I’m starting to wonder whether you’re not deranged, just ignorant. That would explain the feces thing. Maybe you did think it was helpful. That’s kind of sweet, in a simple way.

Let me clarify: if you don’t deal with weeds immediately, they’ll take over your whole home! Plus, the dandelions may start to spread to my side. While I don’t think your complacency comes from a vitriolic place, you need to understand that your actions (or lack thereof) have consequences outside of yourself.

I should really explain to you the joys of gardening—you must come over some time and try my homemade garden-grown blueberry jam some time!

Blaire

Dear Sir or Madam,

Although growing poison ivy isn’t explicitly banned by the neighborhood association, it is frowned upon. Especially when you plant it in your neighbor’s brand-new kitchen sink. I’m not sure how you got into my house in the first place, but the ivy has spread to consume the entire kitchen. Because I don’t want to cause tension right before the bake-sale next week, I won’t mention your little stunt in this week’s neighborhood newsletter (even though I run the gardening segment and have a lot of pull there). I only ask that you hire someone to remove the poison ivy, as I’d like to be able to bake cookies for the upcoming potluck and my Dachshund is stuck in there somewhere and his legs are too short for him to fight his way out.

Losing patience,

Blaire

Dear Sir or Madam,

Yes. I can prove it. If you wanted to be discreet you shouldn’t have left a note about the “fucking stupid” fence dispute. Also, no, the feces wasn’t helpful for my garden, despite your childish dig about my chrysanthemums and me “eating shit.” I resent the implication that I don’t already give my plants plenty of fertilizer.

And I am not a crone. Coming to terms with my aging body is difficult enough without your petty insults.

Do better.

Blaire


Dear Sir or Madam,

My Dachshund has finally emerged from the poison ivy no thanks to you. Fortunately, Biscuits is alive and I won’t be pressing charges, because I think taking the stand would just traumatize her more. However, as Biscuit’s legal guardian, it is my responsibility to protect her, and I take that responsibility very seriously.

I have applied for a firearm license.

Blaire

Dear Sir or Madam,

I’m not sure how you managed to find a gang of preteen thugs to stand outside my house to intimidate me as I garden, but they are trespassing and do not fit this community’s aesthetic. Remove them immediately or face the consequences.

I’ve purchased a gun.

Blaire

Dear Sir or Madam,

I’m not sure how you managed to find my ex-husband or what you told him, but now he won’t stop calling and begging for us to give it another go.

I will use the gun. Don’t test me.

Blaire

Dear Sir or Madam,

Biscuits has been missing for three days now. What the hell did you do with her?

Blaire

Hey.

I found Biscuits trapped in the master bedroom walk-in closet. She is severely emaciated but still alive, not thanks to you. I see what you were trying to do… make it look like a slip-up on my part. Like I just let Biscuits walk past my legs unnoticed as I searched for my old wedding dress to burn to send my ex-husband a message. The one thing I don’t understand is how you avoided the cameras I put up after Biscuit’s disappearance. Your cleverness is symptomatic of your wickedness.

I’m hanging on by a thread. And I don’t think you want to see it snap. I will be all over you like mayflies on a hog. I’ve attached a photo of my eyes to this document so you can look into them as you read this. Do these look like the eyes of a woman that has anything to lose? I will make you wish you were never born. I won’t let you die, either. I will let you suffer like the miserable little ant you are.

Fuck you.

Blaire


Dear Sir or Madam,

I think the mailman accidently put your mail in my mailbox. Whoops! I’ve attached your letters to this note using a binder clip. I’m guessing he accidently gave you my mail, too.

Please bring back my mail and this binder clip in exchange for jam!

Blaire


Dear Sir or Madam

I wanted to be friends. I was even open to friendly acquaintances. But oooh no! You wanted to keep your fence taller than code because apparently you don’t understand what it means to be part of a community. Do you know how many jars of jam I have sitting dusty in the garage? I don’t even like jam! I buy them hoping that one day someone’s gonna ask for some! My mother always told me I’d die alone just like her.

Over and over again I keep proving her right.

Blaire


D-

I’ve started whittling shivs. Need something for my hands to do… I don’t know... restless recently... can’t really explain it. Fire is kind of nice, though. I burn pieces of paper over the stove. Even when the flame burns out I can hear it. Makes me feel understood. Envy its ability to consume everything. Guess poison ivy does that too, but it’s not the same. Ivy’s too alive.

Sometimes, late at night, I flip my gun’s safety on and off just to hear the sound. Helps drown out the roaring.

You make me afraid of myself.

-B


Dear Sir or Madam,

I’ve realized something. I’m fine with being alone if making friends means giving jam to people like you.

I’m God and you’re a worm. I’m a knife and you’re the itty-bitty spoon they give you in those chocolate puddings.

People in this neighborhood like me, you know. Think I’m spry, peppy. Oh, and so nice at pilates. I have my act together. A career woman. Happy, happy, happy. But I look into their eyes and see dead people’s eyes. I could control each of them like puppets if I wanted to, but I held back. Cause that’s not how you make friends. I’m not worried about that anymore.

I’m a good person. I really am. But you’re never going to get to know how deep this good goes because you’re rotten on the inside. Festering like pumpkin pie festers. Fuck you. I said it. Fuck you. I will claw my way up to make sure you never feel peace again. I won’t stop until you forget what the word “peace” even means. Then longer. Until every piece of paper has disintegrated, every stone tablet has shattered, until there’s not a soul left alive to remember the word “peace” or “love” or “God”. I won’t stop until the only thing left on this earth is its core, humming with my rage.

Find my old letter. Look into my eyes. Do you know how many times I’ve read the neighborhood association guidebook? Look into my eyes. Do you fear God? Don’t underestimate my power. You have made a grave enemy out of me and I won’t rest until you live every waking moment quaking in terror.

Cherish your heartbeat now, because this is the last time it won’t be in your throat.

Blaire

Dear Sir or Madam,

I’m leaving this note to inform you that I’m running for president of the Homeowner’s Association! With your help, I want to foster a community we can be proud of.

I’m excited to get to know you better,

Blaire


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