Really loving this guy’s illustrations. Reminds me a little of Lempika crossed with Social Realism.

I write to you with concerns of our current living arrangements. The thing is Birds, I don’t really like you. To tell the truth, I am actually quite afraid of you- and so perhaps the problem is entirely mine. As a result of the many terrible sensations you give me, I have diagnosed myself with a rare condition. They say it is one of the least common of all phobias. It is known as ornithophobia; an irrational, persistent fear of winged creatures that has become an undue, unwanted and unnerving anxiety about encountering and being attacked by you.
Though I know it is mostly my problem, I have to say Birds – you could admit that you too can be rather rude. You fly away when I come near, you turn your beak away from me and set sail for the sun, and then you swoop on me from behind when I am minding my own business – jerks. And what is worse, for some strange reason, apparently it’s lucky to have you shit on my head.
You think I am jealous of you, I know you do. I hear you squawk, I see you ruffle your feathers at me and you think it’s only because I am a non-flyer that I don’t like you. You think that maybe if I could spread my wings and lift off, high up into the sky, I would not be so surly towards you.
All this aside Birds, I write to you now to deliver this short plea, so please hear me out. My husband is so very embarrassed that his wife ducks and drops cowering to the ground anytime one of you scoops through the air. So, please, the next time I muster the courage to leave my house and meander unperturbed down the street, let it be known that my head is not a nest. Oh dear egg laying creature in the tree, please spare me from the pointy, wrath of your beak and flapping feathery wings, and let me live in peace, knowing that my old, recurring Hitchcockian nightmare of bird seed being glued to my skin will never ever come true.

Regards,
Mary Pearls

Ps. Stick your lucky crap back up your ass

This is a collaborative piece compiled by Spit & Polish, printed in the birds and flying saucers issue of Damki. The printed version was titled ‘I hate birds, I love eggs’ and was accompanied with footnotes

Birds are funny though, especially when they stand on one leg that is centered under the body, it looks like they only have one leg.

I have to apologise. I think you have the wrong idea about me and I think I may have offended you. The reason for this, and I am ashamed to admit it, is that I am a self-confessed, long-term nail biter.

I don’t know why I do it, but I have been doing it for as long as I can remember, and I think it is actually more of an addiction than a bad habbit, but alas I don’t think I can stop. So Nails, I write this letter to you to beg for forgiveness. The thing is Nails, I bite you when I am bored, when I am nervous, or whenever I think you are just slightly too long for me to bare. I know my behaviour is not always appropriate, but Nails, you are just so bite-able. And I know sometimes I take it too far and bite the skin around the edge of you, and then it bleeds and I feel really guilty and beat myself up about it, but Nails, please know I never want to hurt you.

You know what Nails, it is not only you who loses out. I too am unable to make you pretty and paint you with all the fancy paints you want. I do feel horrible, but honestly, if I could give you all of that I would. But Nails, I really love you short, just the way you are. I would love you see you grow, sure I would, but Nails, I have come realise that if I didn’t bite you short, I’d probably just cut you anyway.

Nails, I know you see all those other pretty nails out there and think you too would look good all fancy like that, that’s why I bought you some new leather gloves the other day. And to keep you warm in the frosty winter months of course – to protect you, cos I care about you. I used to have fingerless gloves, but I realised Nails, that you were left out in the cold in those. So now you can dress with Hands in fancy lady driving gloves and stay warm.

So what I am trying to say Nails, is perhaps you should just think of my biting you as an act of my affection, because Nails, you are the best nails I will ever have and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.

love Pearls

This letter to Nails will also be published in a printed version of the Nail File http://www.nailfilee.blogspot.com/

Accompanying picture by Benjamin Hammond

I hear you, feel you and can smell you at my door. You crept up the garden path over the weekend and knocked. I opened the door with the chain-lock on, just to check to see who was there, and it was you lurgi. Lurgi, I don’t like you or want you here. You make my head feel swollen and my nose run. You make me feel over-heated when by golly I should be cold in this weather. You make my throat soar and make me sound like a husky old hooker on the other end of a phone sex line.

I woke up this morning in bed with you, when you are at your worst lurgi, but am glad that I didn’t let you convince me to stay there all day with you. I know it is the time of year that you like to visit, but I don’t want your company to be quite frank, and basically I think you are a creep. I know I am not the only one, so if I can speak on behalf of any other lurgi-loathers, then please stop your seducing wicked ways and leave us alone. If you don’t, I will blow you out my nose and hock you up and spit you into a tissue and flush you down the toilet. Eeerrhhum!

goodbye please,
Pearls