Letters where characters hilariously misunderstand each other due to cultural, temporal, or contextual differences.
Mistress Swift,
I hath received thy ballad proclaiming to “shake it off.” What malady afflicts thee requiring such vigorous shaking? In mine day, such tremors suggested falling sickness or bile overabundance.
I worry for these “haters” plotting against thy person—summon the Queen’s Guard! And pray tell, is this “player” who “gonna play” one of mine actors?
Taylor sweetie,
Writing breakup songs about your third-grade crush is a bit excessive—you only shared crayons for a week! And please stop telling everyone your math teacher will “look better with a red scarf” when you’re famous.
Your music teacher mentioned your insistence on recording “Taylor’s Version” on all classroom instruments. While ambition is wonderful, copyrighting your kindergarten finger paintings seems premature.
Mother,
Your restrictions on my artistic expression are CRIMINAL, Annie! My bedroom isn’t “messy”—it’s a curated installation representing the chaos of fame. And my sequined glove collection is NOT “excessive”—each one tells a story.
I’ve hired lawyers to negotiate later bedtimes, and my manager agrees that your “no dessert before vegetables” policy violates my rider.
Mario sweetie,
The toilet is clogged AGAIN, and I found mushrooms growing in your sock drawer! Your obsession with jumping on furniture must stop—we’ve replaced three coffee tables this month. And please stop trying to stomp on the neighbor’s turtle.
Your teacher called about you sliding down the flagpole yelling “It’s-a me!” And collecting coins from the couch cushions doesn’t count as “helping with bills.”
Hey Mario,
My DeLorean’s flux capacitor blinks red making “wah-wah” sounds (Doc’s MIA). Plus, a spiky fire-breathing turtle keeps finding me even at 88 mph! Your pipe expertise is needed.
Since you travel between locations and handle angry turtles daily, could your plumbing skills fix my temporal issues? Is jumping on his head REALLY the best strategy?
Marty sweetie,
Take down those DeLorean posters—you’ve missed the bus daydreaming about flux capacitors. Stop telling teachers homework “isn’t due for 30 years.”
No skateboarding behind cars! Your “temporal experiments” are dangerous, and puffy vests aren’t invincible.
Elon dear,
Don’t forget your lunch box with the rocket ships I packed. And please, no more digging tunnels in the backyard—the neighbors are complaining. Did you remember to brush your teeth after your Mars candy bar?
I saw your Tesla drawings on the refrigerator. Very nice! But sweetheart, cars need wheels, not just batteries.
Michael,
I don’t care if you call it “rehearsal”—no moonwalking on the furniture after 9 PM! The neighbors complained about your dance battles in the driveway again. And sequined gloves are NOT appropriate for fifth-grade picture day.
Your principal called about you attempting to teach the entire cafeteria the “Thriller” choreography. And please stop trying to adopt every animal you see.
Vladimir dear,
I found your “annexation plans” for the neighbor’s swing set! Territorial expansion does NOT apply to the playground. And please stop posing shirtless for your class photos—your teacher is concerned about your “strongman” phase.
The principal called about you establishing a “puppet government” in the student council. While leadership is important, rigging elections and calling classmates “Western spies” is inappropriate.