An Open Letter to Parson Brown

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Dear Rev. Brown,

I’m sure you recall last Winter, when we first met.  It was in the lane, where snow was glistening.  You may have believed it was a beautiful sight and we were happy that night. But you know what? I can honestly say it the worst time of my life. I was taken advantage of with a broken-down car and was not fully aware of that one night’s long-lasting implications.  It was the moment I met Ted, who coincidentally is now my husband.  And it’s all your fault.

I was just passing through the woods on my way to the airport.  Detour signs led me deep into the forest. My car skidded off the road and out of nowhere came a man who walked up and offered to help.  He handed me a flask of whiskey, and I drank it.  What was I supposed to do? It was seven degrees outside with a negative wind chill. Reverend – I should have known better. This is 2018. Who is out at night walking in a Winter Wonderland? I looked around me because I was scared, but gone away was the bluebird.  Instead all I saw were new birds.  They appeared to be crows, who peered at me with their steely death-filled eyes.  I should have seen that as a foreboding sign.

As we walked, we came to a meadow, where Ted said we could build a snowman.  Who wants to build a snowman in a blizzard with a stranger?  I just wanted my car fixed!  I was beginning to think he slipped something in the whiskey.  All of a sudden there you were, this fat white guy with a large nose and a top hat standing there asking if we were married.  I was like “no, man” and at that point things got really hazy.  I think someone said they’d get the job done in town, and I was like “FINALLY” since that’s a fairly new Saab. Now I realize it wasn’t the car you were talking about.

I think Ted must have been sitting home alone before we met, conspiring and dreaming by a fire, to make this all happen. I mean, normal men don’t walk around in forests with laced whiskey unless it’s pre-meditated.  Did he put the detour signs there to force me off the road?  Had he been stalking me?  He kept going about the stupid snowman again, this time pretending it was a circus clown.  I think even in my altered state I realized Ted was mentally ill.  Now, there is no doubt.  The other day he said he liked to frolic and play the Eskimo way.  An Eskimo?  We live in Massachusetts, not Greenland!  This is getting worse by the day.  He’s a psychopath and needs medication.

Look, I’ve been trying to contact you for a while. I’ve searched all the seminaries and they have no record of you. I’m beginning to think you’re not a real preacher after all. I need to contact you to see how to annul this marriage since it was based on false pretenses.  If annulment isn’t possible, we are getting a divorce.  I can’t take it anymore.  I come home from work every night and I have to listen to Ted yelling at the television and ringing those stupid bells. Sleigh bells ring, am I listening? How can I not? The tinkling and jingling is giving me anxiety. That’s not snow glistening, it’s tears filled with hidden rage!

I’m done with this whole game.   You can take this Winter Wonderland and stick it.

Sincerely,

Susan White

 

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