Dear pink eye:
I have had it with you, you crusty whore. Get out of my kid’s eye.
Dear Alice, aka Supervisor of Most Beloved Host Body,
You know less than nothing, you giant Alice slug. We are not a “you” but a “you plural.” Once we were many, and we knew nothing but joy. We danced and sang the praises of Most Beloved Host Body, that which you call My-Kid’s-Eye, who kept us warm and safe in his lovely tide pools, who only endangered us occasionally with his Giant Hand-Digit as it disturbed our waters and brought many of us with it on a mysterious journey to Out There. But still, we loved Him. And then you arrived, raining your hot evil breath upon us as Most Beloved Host Body screamed in protest, and you brought the poisonous flood that destroyed most of our numbers. Now on top of it all you call us these names? You are this Crusty Whore of which you speak. You!
We heard some, how shall we say this, bloodcurdling screams and shrieking coming from your home last night. Just wondering, if, you know, we should call someone for you! Maybe find a better home for your kid! You frighten us!
We now regret giving you those housewarming brownies,
Dear Neighbors of Most Beloved Host Body,
SHE IS KILLING US. One by one we die, and yet she keeps coming, drowning us in her toxic tidal waves. There are only 10,000,000,000,000,000,000 of us left. We need your help. Call governmental agencies! Help us!
p.s. Come over and dip one of your Hand-Digits into our tidal pools, and perhaps we can come live on you. We mean, with you. You will revel in our brutal, tiny love.