Thursday, 2 April 2015
A letter to Beyonce
Hi Beyonce...no too casual. Sup Beyonce...no too colloquial. Dear Beyonce... too formal. What's gwanin BB? That's perfect.
What's gwanin BB?
It's me Stella. I'm 13 ( how many is that in hamster years?) and a huge fan of yours. I'm writing this letter to talk about a really serious issue that I need your help with. How do I phrase this? WILL YOU ADOPT ME BEYONCE?
My parents are totally fine with it ( of course they don't know yet but they'll be fine), my imaginary friend Bertumboe ( pronounced Ber-tum-bow) is completely ok with it as well. Oh and my real friends seem to be ok with it too, but no one cares about their opinion.
Just think about it BB. Can I call you BB or do you prefer another name? Like Queen or Boss or Awerfgjrfd? You know just in case your into names that no body can pronounce. I have so much to offer, I'm qualified for your adoption I swear.
I can dance (not well and I don't even think it's qualified as dancing). But I can flail my arms and legs to a beat.
I can sing, no...no I can't. But I listen to music.
I'm great at maths, I think. I could be your accountant, supposing I'll be paid a fair amount that is.
I can pass off as a toddler, or a smurf. which ever one. I'm really short but I don't know how that would benefit you.
I can write hit songs, my last one being aghhhhhhh, the lyrics consisting of the word aghhhhhhhhhh. All the cat's loved it, the beat went straight through their noise cancelling headphones.
So Beyonce, what do you say?
Yours sincerely your future daughter.
P.S. If this doesn't work out, can you somehow get me in contact with Obama or Winnie the Pooh?
If you've successfully made it to the end of the letter, hi and I swear I'm not insane. I hope you found this somewhat amusing. Thank you for reading human, peace out or whateva.