Greetings, Miss Snark,
If you ever get a break from crushing nitwits beneath the heels of your stilettos, while reading crapometer pages and sipping gin, Elizabeth Bear and a few of her writer friends had a discussion about honest rejection letters. It's quite funny.
Thanks for being so great.
PS All the best to Killer Yapp. I sent him a little something to help in his crusade against the evil attack squirrels, but I suspect Homeland Security or Customs has impounded it... Who knew it was illegal to send canine-operated rocket launchers through the mail?
Killer Yapp: "Miss Snark!"
MS: Yes, KY, what is it..more important, why are you up at this coffee forsaken hour?
KY: Door! Delivery!
KY: Big! Biped!
MS: WTF?? *peering through peephole*
"Open Up! We know you're in there!"
MS: Holy G-man, KY, it's a raid! Hide the bathtub gin!
Uniformed employee of the US Postal Service: Ma'am.
MS: Miss Snark bub
UEUSPS: I have several packages here for you.
MS: You came to my door for this?
UEUSPS: Signature required, certified delivery.
MS: It's a damn query letter! Two, no three in fact!
UEUSPS: ID please.
MS: I need ID to get certified mail at my own door?
UEUSPS: We're tightening up in this new world of threats everywhere.
MS: Will my distillers license do?
UEUSPS: That photo doesn't look much like you.
MS: It's 5:42 am, I look Cotton Mather after a brimstone binge at the Presbyterian Bar and Grill.
UEUSPS: The postal service never sleeps.
MS: Yea, I can see that.
UEUSPS: oh, and here are some other things addressed to Mr. K Yapp.
MS: ID? Signature?
UEUSPS: No need. It's not certified, return receipt requested.
MS: It's a rocket launcher.
UEUSPS: It's stamped "media mail: book"
MS: It's three feet long
UEUSPS: It's stamped "media mail"
MS: It weighs 200 pounds.
UEUSPS: It's says "media mail"
MS: The return address is Rocket Launchers R US!
UEUSPS: Look lady, it says media mail, it is media mail. Now, give me your thumbprint and one more piece of ID for the certified mail and let me get out of here before that dog burns a hole in my pants with that cigar.