A Barrel

Dear Secretary,

I would like to know who keeps leaving dead animals in my mailbox. I think that it must be you because you are the only person to whom I have given my address. Actually, I don't even have an address. Or a mailbox, to be fair. In fact, it's really more of what you would call an old barrel, rather than an actual mailbox. It's also a bit rotten, so maybe you wouldn't actually realize that it used to be a barrel just from looking at it. Anyway, I call it a mailbox because I use it to store all of my mail. Or at least I would if I got any.

The point is that I don't think that dead animals are what I am paying my membership dues for. I don't want them at all and I would prefer it if you stopped sending them. I felt the woodpecker was in particularly poor taste. And tapirs aren't even indigenous to this region. This is a tundra, for Francis's sake! We mostly just get pikas!

I was interrupted while writing this letter because a man had arrived with an enormous crate. The crate had a whale in it. He wouldn't say who it was from. However, the whale wasn't dead yet, so I think this might be a separate issue. I will send you more information when I have reached a conclusion.

I have to cut this letter short. The whale has just demolished my front porch with its tail.

Quite Sincerely,

Franz D. Haberdasher
(Associate Member)