Friday, February 19, 2010

Paul of Tarsus

Dear Paul,

Or Saul. Or whoever you are this week.

I can't live like this. I won't play second fiddle to your little pen pals in Corinthia or wherever. I am a flesh and blood woman with needs. I can't just stand around wrapped up in sheets waiting for you to finish scratching away on papyrus.

And I saw your last letter. "Love is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs." It's not a "record of wrongs." It's my JOURNAL. I'm not a fool, Paul. I know when I'm being written about to an enclave of a fledgling religion in some far away place that I couldn't find on a map.

Well, congratulations. Your stupid letter just guaranteed that every Catholic wedding for the next two thousand years is going to suck.


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