They set me up.
I told people I got a letter from the alphabet.
They blinked.
Waited for the punchline.
I waited for a sinkhole to open up and swallow me whole.
Still—I can’t let it go.
Because it wasn’t a joke.
(And no, I wasn’t high. Probably.)
And then there was Q.
The Mail Drop
I really did get the letter.
Addressed to me. Handwritten.
In cursive. On real paper.
Maybe I’d inherited a massive sum of money from a long-lost relative?
I didn’t.
But I did get something…at first glance sweet.
Said I learned the alphabet before I could tie my shoes.
Wrote terrible poems. (I was three!)
Thanked them in my eighth-grade graduation speech. (Pretty sure not.)
They said I’d forgotten them—but it was okay.
(Why am I starting to sweat?)
Even though it took 3,000 years to create all 26 of them.
And they’d written history.
And now—they’re being replaced by emojis.
They want my help. To remind people that:
Without them, we’d be speechless.
It was signed The Letters.
Honestly, I could feel their pain.
I’m probably a day away from being erased myself.
And I did try.
Made a complete fool of myself.
Time to move on.
Posts wait for no one.
Then I hear my keyboard typing. Not again.
Q Has a Plan
Q here:
So no one believed you? Typical.
I love The Letters. We’ve been through a lot!
But what did they expect? “Celebrate the Alphabet” day?
The world’s moved on.
Still—I wouldn’t say no to a tribute.
Are you there?
Nowhere to Run
“Hi,” I typed. “I was frozen for a bit. And I thought about ignoring you.”
Q: Figured. Especially after your faceplant at work. The Letters won’t give up, you know. They’re holding all the tools.
And they know how to use them.
“Don’t get me wrong,” I typed. “I’m sympathetic. I tried. You saw how that went.”
Q: Honestly? I thought you were brave.
Don’t beat yourself up.
I’ve got a few ideas.
“Can’t you leave me out of this? Why am I even in… whatever this is?”
Q: They like you. Go figure. You’re a writer. And, well, you need this.
Ouch.
“Yeah, thanks to you!” I slammed the keyboard.
Q: Okay, fair. People are hopeless. Their faces should be replaced with screens.
No more need for facelifts.
Hey!
What if we write a movie script?
The Pitch
“What?” I typed. “About?”
Q: First—we are The Letters. Scripts are a snap. And today? They call those plots? We just need someone with bank.
“You know people in the business?” I typed hesitantly.
Q: Know them? Duh. Wrote them.
OK, listen.
I’m thinking Robert Downey Jr. Gotta have some action. He’ll kill.
We’ll call it: Capital Assets: Case Control. Get it?
“Robert Downey Jr. in a movie about the alphabet?”
Q: OMG. Where is your imagination? It’ll be dystopian. Meta. RDJ and The Letters. Well—not all the letters, obviously.
Let’s see…who has the most commanding presence? You know? I think it’s me!
Anna Kendrick will be Q. OK, gotta go. Check in later.
What.
The.
Hell.
What if it worked?
Thank you for reading! I know I should get a niche. Everyone says so. What do you think?
Hi Libby, thanks so much! I think my brain has been taken over by someone with a kooky sense of humor. Have to say, I'm enjoying it!
The first thing that captured my attention was The Hollywood sign. I dig the title: “Capital Assets In Play”.