Photography © Edward S. Gault

 

For The Last Time: Do Not, Under Any Circumstances, Tell My Achy Breaky Heart

My Dearest Mademoiselle,

Though I am saddened at the dissolution of our relationship, I understand that it was time for us to sever ties and pursue other partners in matters of romance and coitus. I shall cherish the memories of our time together, and have attempted to bid you farewell on the fondest of terms. I thought we had come to an understanding as to how best to proceed but perhaps certain boundaries were not made clear, which is why I am writing you this day to make my feelings known.

As I thought I had explained to you when we parted, in order for this situation to avoid turning unpleasant, you are hereby asked not, under any circumstances, to relay this information to my achy breaky heart.

I have granted my approval for you to tell the world, if you wish, that you never was my girl, which I believe was more than fair. I also gave my approval to the notion that you burn my clothes when I’m gone, tell your friends what a fool I’ve been, and laugh and joke about me on the farm. I can’t imagine most suitors would permit these actions upon the end of an understanding between two civilized people.

Furthermore, at your request, I conceded that should you have occasion to tell my arms to go back to the farm, to command my feet to hit the floor, or direct my lips to tell my fingertips they won’t be reaching out for you no more, I would not stand in your way.

All of these things, I have allowed. But one matter that I am certain was explicitly stated was that if we are to remain cordial during this difficult period, you are not to tell my achy breaky heart. Despite this, it appears the matter is still unresolved, which is why I must elaborate further regarding the restrictions upon which I must insist.

You may, if the situation requires it, tell your ma I moved to Arkansas. And though I don’t foresee a situation in which I should call upon you again at your residence, in the event I were to do so, it is permissible that you tell your dog to bite my leg (I leave this choice to your discretion).

If, in time, you elect to tell your brother Cliff, whose fist undoubtedly will then tell my lips, I will take it as a matter of due course (he never really liked me anyway). As far as your Aunt Louise is concerned, you may tell her anything you please, and I hereby promise that I shan’t make an effort to cause strife between you and your beloved relation.

I imagine myself already knows I’m not okay, so I, your former flame, would also fall within the bounds of those it is acceptable for you to tell. If you wish it, tell my eyes to watch out for my mind, as there is a strong reason to suspect it might be walking out on me today. I admit this is abstract, but I want to express just how reasonable I believe I have been, and what a wide range of actions would fail to incur my ire.

But I must insist that you not – and I cannot make this more clear – tell my heart. I simply find it impossible to believe that he would understand. As we have discussed, my heart is both achy and breaky, and is in danger of a life-threatening explosion if presented with information it is unable to comprehend.

That is all I ask of you. Let me reiterate that I wish for no ill-will between us, and that I will be your greatest champion going forward, provided you follow these stipulations. You are hereby released from our engagement, and may inform anyone you please of our unfortunate parting, but for the last time: do not embark on the vindictive action of telling my achy breaky heart, if not for my sake, then for the sake of those closest to me who would be traumatized by the bewildering shock that would surely result if he were to blow up and kill this man.

Ooooooooooh!

 

Gregg Maxwell Parker is the author of the middle grade book Troublemakers. A resident of Tokyo, he and his wife run the blog As Seen In Japan, where they cover everything about Japanese culture (mostly convenience store food).

Edward S. Gault is a poet and fine arts photographer living in Brighton, Massachusetts. His work has appeared in Oddball Magazine, Spectrum, Wilderness House Literary Review, Interlude, Currents, and Encore.