Dear Lilly and Alice;

I love you more than I love just about anything else in the world, including candy corn and my My Little Pony collection, but seriously, if you wake me up at two in the morning to ask me to open the window one more time, you're going to be mittens. I can get new cats. Better cats. Cats that won't do that kind of shit.

Annoyed,
Your human.

*

Dear My Little Pony collection;

You're made of plastic. Please stop reproducing when you think I'm not looking. I am rapidly running out of shelf space. Last night, cleaning out the random accessory bin, I found complete sets of Pony Wear from 1982. This is becoming creepy. Cut it out.

Spooked,
Your collector.

*

Dear retail outlets of the world;

Halloween is my favorite holiday, and I really appreciate that you've noticed how stressed I am and are trying to take steps to reduce my unhappiness, but the fact that you're already putting out the Halloween decorations is a little bit disturbing. It's August. Since you're not selling Halloween-themed school supplies (which you totally should be), this seems a little unfair to the people heading back to class and just trying to find a cheap number two pencil.

I would really appreciate it if you'd go back to putting out the Halloween decorations in mid- to late-September, and then leave them up until, I don't know, Halloween. That way, the stores wouldn't suddenly be set for Thanksgiving while last-minute shoppers are trying to get their candy for trick-or-treat, and we might not have time for the Christmas music to make us actively homicidal before the end of the season.

Just a thought.

Respectfully,
Your customer.

*

Dear candy corn;

Om nom nom nom nom.

Nom,
Your consumer.

*

Dear Great Pumpkin;

O He who is in the patch down the street where they give hayrides in that sort of rickety-looking tractor, hallowed be thy name. May you be adored and adorned with candles, spooky faces, and, when the time is come for your death and resurrection, with graham cracker crust and sweet whipped cream. May you rise to walk the haunted corn mazes and the suburban streets, delighting the faithful and frightening the unbeliever with your fixed and luminous grin.

Great Pumpkin, I will write you more thoroughly later, but I just wanted to say, you da squash, thank you for the candy corn, and I hope to have an incredible, amazing time in Australia, where they have weird blue zombie pumpkins, which just reinforces my belief that it is, in fact, the promised land. Thank you for everything, Great Pumpkin.

Trick or treat,
Seanan.

Dear myself, age nine;

Hi! How are you? It's mid-December as I'm writing this, so you're probably sitting in your third grade classroom with Mr. D, wondering whether you're going to be able to get home in time to watch The Munsters on TV 20. The odds are good that you will. Just so we can get that out of the way early.

You know how on Career Day every year you say you're going to grow up to become a writer? Well, congratulations: you will. It's going to take a long time and a lot of work, and you're going to feel like giving up a whole bunch of times, but if you can make yourself keep going, you'll be me someday. You're going to write a lot of crap. I mean a lot of crap. It's necessary crap. (Well, maybe not all of it. There's going to be this novella in seventh grade that you'll be totally proud of and let a lot of people read, and trust me, you're wrong, it's terrible, and if you want to not do that, I promise I'll understand.)

Being a writer is a lot more complicated than it looks. You don't have the Internet yet, but let me tell you, it's going to change everything. You're going to wind up being friends, or at least acquaintances, with some of the people whose books you're reading right now. (Sorry, I still don't know Stephen King.) Learn to take criticism. Learn to shrug off insults. It'll all be okay.

Leela is going to live for a really long time, but not forever; be good to your cat while you have her. I still miss her. You're not going to be friends with the same people for your entire life, but you have them for now, and that's worth a lot. Hug Stacy and Natasha for me, okay? They're going to bring My Little Ponies back in 2004. That isn't as far away as it sounds. Trust me.

You're going to be okay. You're going to tell stories, and you're going to see the world, and you're going to meet amazing people, and you're going to be okay. Just wanted to drop a note and let you know that.

But I really mean it about that novella. Yuck.

Love,
You.

Dear brain:

'Chair' and 'cherry' are not the same word. If, by some horrible quirk in the functionality of the universe, you manage to begin dictating what things mean, please consider screwing with some other words. Words which do not have an impact on a major part of my summertime diet. Because seriously, here, I don't want to eat my desk chair, and I don't want to sit in my cherries.

In other news, you're very strange sometimes.

Love,
Me.