Mary And Max Page #3

They got chew"d"ed off

in World War ll

when some Japanese peoples

kept him in a cage above piranhas.

Piranhas are goldfish that have teeth.

He's scared of outside,

which is a disease called homophobia.

He's started giving me 50 cents a week

to get his mail.

I'm saving to buy a castle in Scotland

and marry a man called Earl Grey.

Do you get "The Noblets" in America?

Well, my favourite Noblet

is Vanity Noblet.

He wants to be everyone's friend,

even the boys'!

In your letter, you said

you had no friends.

Well, neither do l.

A-ha!

Yesterday at school, Bernie Clifford weed

on my spam sandwich

and called me "poo face"

'cos of my birthmark.

I wish I could peel it off like a bandaid.

He also laughed

'cos I had no buttons.

Ethel pecked them off

and Mum couldn't thread a needle

'cos she'd been testing the sherry

so she used pegs instead.

When I got home, I climbed into

my secret place till dinner time.

The other kids also laugh at my haircut.

Dad has to cut my hair

because mum says

real hairdressers

sell your hair to Chinamen

who stuff mattresses.

My teacher, Mrs Pendergast,

says I should smile more.

I told my mum

and so she drawed a big smile on me.

I don't think Mrs Pendergast

likes me anymore.

I better go now.

My tears are smudgling my words.

Your friend in Australia,

Mary Daisy Dinkle.

PS. Have you ever been teased?

Can you help me?

PSS. I've never been hang gliding

before or been a "commune-ist"

but would love a frisbee

and your recipe for chocolate hotdogs.

PSSS. I'm sending you some

Australian chocolate, a pompom I made

and a cake called a lamington,

which I was meant to eat for lunch.

Have you ever been teased?

Ooooooooooaaaahhhh!

Mary's letter

triggered memories

Max had buried deep down in his shoes.

We've got him cornered now.

Hey, Jew-boy, you're gonna pay...

Take this, Jew-boy, Jew-boy, Jew-boy.

And as usual,

he coped in the only way he knew.

And 36 chocolate hotdogs later...

..and after only two hours sleep,

Max's meltdown faded away

and an idea popped into his brain.

Dear Mary Daisy Dinkle,

thank you for your letter, chocolate bar,

lamington and pompom.

The chocolate got crushed, so I blended

the bits with milk and icecream

and now I am drinking it right now.

After much thought, I think I have

a solution to your teasing.

Tell Bernie Clifford

your birthmark is made of chocolate,

which means when you get to heaven

you will be in charge

of all the chocolate.

This of course is a lie

I do not like lies

but in this case

I think it will be of benefit.

I wish I could be in charge

of all the chocolate

but, of course, I cannot

because of my atheism.

My neighbour lvy is also an atheist.

She doesn't talk much but makes me

very good soup on Sunday nights.

She is partly blind

and sometimes I find her hair

in my soup. Eeugh!

I do not tell her as Dr Bernard Hazelhof

says this would be impolite.

Here is a list of what I eat

on the other nights.

Mondays - Glicks Potato Knish,

Tuesdays - Yiddels Noodle Kugel,

Wednesdays -

Captain Salty's Fishstix,

Thursdays - Yentls Cheezy Blintz

and Fridays - chicken nuggets.

On Saturday nights

I create my own recipes.

Last week I invented

canned spaghetti hamburgers.

Recipes are like

mathematical equations.

Dr Bernard Hazelhof told me you should

never weigh more than your refrigerator

and to never eat

anything bigger than your head.

I once ate a watermelon

bigger than my head

but not all at once.

Do you have

any weight loss suggestions?

My Overeaters Anonymous meetings

don't seem to be working

and just make me tense.

It would be good

if there was a "Fat Fairy".

She would be a bit like the Tooth Fairy

but would suck out your fat.

Ivy says she is only a "little bit" blind

but I think she is very blind.

She should get a cane

like other vision-impaired people.

She could make the end pointy

and collect rubbish at the same time.

I think I will write a letter to the Mayor

and suggest this.

He will be very impressed.

Ivy says she doesn't need a cane

because she has a good sense of smell.

She says she could find me

with her eyes stapled shut.

She says I smell like liquorice

and old books.

I think she smells like cough medicine

and urine.

I have never told her this

as Dr Bernard Hazelhof said

this would also be impolite.

People often think

I am tactless and rude.

I cannot understand how

being honest can be...improper.

Maybe this is why

I don't have any friends

of course except for you.

A real friend has been

one of my three goals in life.

The other two are to own every Noblet

and a lifetime supply of chocolate.

Dr Bernard Hazelhof says

it is good to have goals

but not stupid ones like mine.

I have now run out of things to tell you.

Please, write soon.

Your friend in America,

Max Jerry Horowitz.

PS. Do not worry about not smiling.

My mouth hardly ever smiles

but it does not mean

I am not smiling inside my brain.

PPS. Please find enclosed a frisbee,

some Chocolate Pop Rocks,

which you should eat with cola,

and an illustration of a turtle

from one of my National Geographics.

PPPS. Did you know that turtles

can breathe through their anuses?

Dear Max,

when I told Bernie Clifford

I'll be in charge of all the chocolate

in heaven and he wouldn't get any,

he cried.

I also hide'd some dog's poo

in his bit of the sandpit.

Your advice was great and

I've got a job delivering pamphlets

so I can save to come and see you.

I am sad to hear you are fat.

Mum says I am fat too

and I'm growing up to be a heifer,

which I think is a type of cow.

Maybe you should only eat things

beginning with the letter of each day.

On Mondays you could only eat

milkshakes, marshmallows

and...mustard.

Oooh!

For my birthday, my Mum baked a cake

and Dad gave me a camera.

I hope you like the photos I sent.

The first one is of Ethel,

who ate some tinsel.

The next one is one of myself

after I ate the Chocolate Pop Rocks

with the cola, like you said.

Next is Len.

He's still trying hard not to be afraid of

outside and conquer his homophobia.

The next one is of dad in his shed,

and then one of the times

I covered mum

while she was asleep in her stickers

that help her stop smoking.

Next, when I got my slinky

caught in my hair.

Then one of the times Sonny

digged up his wife, Cher.

And, finally, a photo of my other

neighbour Damian Popodopolous.

He's a Greek and smells like

lemon dishwashing liquid

and his skin is smooth,

like the back of a spoon.

Mum says he's a wog and has a stutter

and can't even say his own surname.

She says you have to hit him

on the back of the head

to get his words out.

P-P-P-P...Popodopolous.

I wish he was my boyfriend

and we can be in love and do sexing

like Katherine Ramsay told me

behind the bike shed.

She said it's when two people

go "nuddy"

and rub on each other to make babies.

I told her she's a liar

and would go to hell and burn like toast

Rate this script:4.7 / 6 votes