Dear Baby Jessica,

First of all, I hope you don’t mind that I call you “Baby” Jessica. It’s just that if I call you Jessica (sans Baby) it’s like I’m talking to Jessica Simpson. Although I’d probably call her Jess. Not that it would be bad to be Jessica Simpson except you’d be a divorcee by the time you were 25. And then if you went on The Bachelor and told him you’d already been married he’d probably let you go like he did to that girl last night.

But forget all that, Baby Jessica, because you have no need to go on The Bachelor; You just got married! And that’s why I’m writing you. I wanted to say congratulations. Wow, married at age 19! You really snagged a man fast. Does he tell you about where he was when you fell into the well? I mean, I guess since he’s 32 now he must have been like 14 when that all went down. Ask him if he was trying to watch the Dukes of Hazzard too. Oh, you’re probably too young to remember but the Dukes of Hazzard was actually a TV series before it was a movie starring you-know-who! Hee hee. It’s funny how she keeps coming up in conversation. Or in epistolary situations. Sorry, I’m trying to show off my big vocabulary so you’ll understand that it’s important to go to college. And I’ve always wanted to incorporate the word “epistolary” into my writing.

Oh, speaking of me and my writing, you’re probably wondering who I am. I’m Elsa or Writinggal. I don’t mean to boast but I’m actually the person who saved you from the well. I know, I know. I don’t get a lot of credit for it because I wasn’t there the night they pulled you out but those guys couldn’t have done their jobs without me. What did I do? Well I ate a pickle. That’s right. I ate a pickle and saved you! I can see how there could be a disconnect there so let me explain: I HATE pickles. But for you, I ate one. I sacrificed for you, Baby Jessica, and God rewarded both of us. He granted my wish and let you out of the well.

I also wanted to congratulate you on this $1 million I heard you’re receiving when you turn 25. That’s great. You really deserve that since you fell into a well and all. I don’t mean to intrude or tell you what to do with your money but if I had fallen into a well when I was too young to remember and then people started throwing money at me, well I would probably give at least some of it to the people who saved me. For instance, if someone had done something they really hated like watched the movie Dune or listened to a lot of techno music or I don’t know, ate something they really hated at Wendy’s as a sacrifice to get me out, well I would probably share a percentage with them. I’m just saying.

So anyway, congratulations on your marriage and all your success and fame and stuff. I sent you a three-compartment hamper from your Wal-Mart registry. My husband and I have one and trust me, it’ll save your marriage. But what do I know? I sent the same thing to Nick and Jess and look where they ended up! Hey, do you think I’ll get that back now?

Hope to hear from you soon!

LYLAS,
Elsa/Writinggal/Pickle-Eating-Hero