Dear Senator
An Absurd Bit of Stream of Consciousness Fun!
Dear Senator,
Please provide my plants with the sun they desire.
Oh Mr. Constituent,
How your request delights me, but my office does not offer sun. We offer continuing correspondence with the celestial bodies and provide that information to you for your own plant maneuvers.
Dear Senator.
My back is poor and my lungs are filled with silt. Could you not move my plant to the western window? My address is 1768 Fork Shaft Ln.
Dear, dear Mr. Constituent.
Please eat your plant. It will be good for your back and solve all of your problems. Have you considered buying a horse? Horses are majestic.
Oh, my dear Senatorial Representative,
A horse would be a delight! I lament though, dear, dear window to the Godland. I am but a humble forehead salesman. A forehead salesman can nigh afford a weasel or a wombat.
Post Script: My plant was delicious. That was indeed good advice.
Hullo, Bang-Zowie, Sweet, arid, obstetrician delivered Constituent.
For a horse belongs in your stable and if you dream hard enough and say enough delightful things to your local insurance and oil executives, perhaps your dream of horse ownership is nearer than you believe! The moon tells me there is a window in your house, is that true? The moon is not one to lie. The sun tells me that your future is lined with gold and seeds that will grow into both plants to eat and children after they are strategically placed in the fairer sex. Please forgive my boldness, lovely, charming, delightful Mr. Constituent. The future is endeavoring to be almost blinding in your constituent home.
Oh Senator of impeccable comportment and the forehead of the finest degree. I should know, I am a professional. That is why I voted for you, dear, lovely, lustful Senator. Would you come and eat a plant with me someday? We could eat a horse too if you would like.
I shot an arrow at the Sun and asked that it take me more seriously in the future. I am glad it listened.