Way to go; you get to marry me.
"What a catch!" you are
probably thinking. But maybe
you are secretly apprehensive.
I have a lot of annoying habits.
For example, I don't clean
bathrooms. That's gross. I hope
you don't mind doing that until you die.
Also, I snore. Also, I am a
pack rat. I don't throw anything
away. I hoard stuff. I keep
things. Also, I am redundant.
So seriously, are you sure that
you want to get hitched? You
can still back out. You've got
four weeks. Hours less, actually.
I guess you've already spent
a lot of money on the wedding,
so it would be expensive to cancel
now. Tom Brady could do it, maybe.
Did you find the commencement
speaker boring? I did. I would
have done a lot worse, though. I'm
not much of a public speaker.
Hmmm...what else could I write
about? I'm running out of ideas.
I suppose I should praise your
qualities, since this is an ode.
Here goes: you are beautiful,
friendly, smart, a good cook,
a vet student, female, over
twenty years old, and in debt.
A lot of debt. Thousands and
thousands of dollars. It's gonna
take years to pay off your loans.
Years. Think about that. Years.
This poem surely is a ramblin'
piece of literature. I'm not really
sure when it's going to end. I
guess when I run out of space.
Stanza eleven: I really liked it
when we went to Notre Dame.
That was a good trip and a
pretty campus. It had lots of trees.
Do you think I could get this
published? Maybe online somewhere.
It's pretty simple to post things
on the Internet. No one will stop you.
Well, this is going to be the end.
Thirteen stanzas! Ooh, unlucky! I
need a rabbit's foot perhaps. Where
can I get one of those? I don't know.