June 4 2018
To Whom It Might Concern,
Hello. This one is a doozy so upfront I’m gonna ask you to please bear with me. It has been a lifelong passion of mine to find my purpose and I
think I’ve found it. It’s humble in the big scheme things but it is my density.
OK – the jist of it is that I think I was told by God that I am a protector of nocturnal animals. You see, I have trouble sleeping at night: I’m
nocturnal too! I like to take nice long drives in the country at night (I don’t smoke weed and drive—I’d never do that). I would like money from
you guys in exchange for me driving around, scarring animals from the roadway on the rural roads. What qualifies me, you ask?
I have NEVER killed any kind of animal on a road (accept for one mouse, which I felt really bad about). Just this week, I saved several skunks, at
least two cats, the same possum twice in the same night (I’m pretty sure on this (if so, he’s a lucky guy! (does language work like algebra? (have
you ever pondered this?)))), and a mama deer and a baby deer. That last one happened tonight.
(If you need proof of the "saves" (for billing purposes), I can start taking pictures of them running away. Or show you my car/tires/etc. without
guts/blood on it/them.) Whatever works.
But anyways, It was like this: I’m driving on these winding backroads, up in the mountains, it's dark out, my whole world is given to me by the
mercy of my headlights, and I take this deeeeeep curve, and there at the roadside, even protruding into my lane a bit, there’s a baby deer suckling
on its’ mama. They didn't move! Is it instinctual? "Do not abruptly stop feedings--not for anything." Maybe it's the deer way? But anyways, I’m
not fooling you. I was not in danger of hitting the animals (I drive nice and slow when I go out on “patrol”, (protecting “nocturnia”, (as I
like to call it))) because I was driving nice and slowly. I got past these creatures, and I’m thinking to myself, I’m thinking “Should I go back
and scare those deer off the road?” and I’m monitoring my abdominal area for the feelings. You know. And It tells me, sure enough, turn this car
back and scare those beautiful creatures off the road. I’m driving back and I approach the deer—the baby is standing between mama’s legs—and
as I get near, I steer my Hyundai directly at them dead-on, and I start honking my horn and flashing my highbeams. “Get off the road!” I said.
Well. Now the mama tenses in my headlights, and spins on her feet, and as she leaps off the road into the brush, she kicks her baby deer smack dab
in the head
! The baby deer immediately lowered itself and laid (lain?) frozen flat to the ground. I saw a nature documentary once where a
baby...what was it...like a freakin baby zebra or something gets punced from behind by a lion. The baby zebra instantly lowered itself to the ground
and proceeded to get eaten alive. It was like that.
But anyways I correct my steering and continue down the road. My stomach sinks and I’m like “Is that little fellow okay?!” Again, I monitor my
guts and it says the little fellow is fine. I smile, relax my grip on the wheel, I compose myself and I think whew. Okay. and geuss what? Not thirty
seconds down the road, I pass what? A big pickup truck driving down the road like he was Dale Earnhardt or something. It was that moment that I knew:
I am an protector of (mostly noctural) animals. (Do deers do stuff during the day, too?)( I knew I had found my calling, and that driving around all
night wasn’t just a waste of money and gas like everyone thinks. (Unless! This whole time, What if the adult deer was actually the papa deer? No
wonder it took off so fast! But all the same, I saved the baby
) And that’s what counts!
I aws thinking to myself, while reflecting after this marvelous and incredible incident, my only companion the dull smooshing of my tires on the road
through the moonlit sylvania, what if there was a way to make this not only my calling, but my job? The way I see it, those animals are Oregonians
just like me and my protecting them is a valuable service to the greater community. I was thinking to myself, as my headlights shone upon the
statuesque evergreens, elders of the coastal range, “Who should I approach with this idea?” And then it dawned on me! The zoo! Zoos like aminals
So that’s why I’m writing this to you guys. Ithought maybe there could be a new division created. “Non-resident outreach” has a nice ring to
it. If you think about it, it’s almost like welfare for the wild animals that other people usually don’t think twice about mindlessly crushing
beneath their tires. (And if you think about ti, they (the animals) don’t work, either! People who don’t/can’t work get welfare. Win-win!)
I know what you’re thinking: it sounds like a great idea, but unfortunately there’s just not money for the creation of such a dignified task
force. What'll you get a load of this: I have the solution!
Ok follow me on this. What sorts of vehicles endanger the creatures of nocturnia the most? Well, I say the biggest ones! Why? They are heavier and
brake slower! The are higher up: the drivers might not see the hapless denizens of the forests green. So we bill the owners of exorbitantly large
vehicles for the service! But how can you actually know which of the drivers of the exorbitantly large vehicles are the ones to tax, you say? I say,
it’s not a tax, first of all. I am NOT a McCarthyist. This is a service provided by the zoo.What;s more American then zoos? (Honestly?
anywaysthe most arrogant drivers of exorbitantly large vehicles are likely to be the most dangerous ones, as only arrogance before nature would allow
someone to carelessly pulverize one of gods creatures like that. Ok? So how do you find the most arrogant and stupid, selfish, me-firsters driving
these exorbitantly large vehicles? Simple!
Go to Cabella’s! You could set up a toll-booth for parking, then take all the money adn give it to the zoo, then give it to me.
in the words of
David Ick: Problem - Response. Solution. Vio;a.
Let me know what you think. I know you’ll do the right thing.
Ray John Brothers
P.S. If you could let me know as soon as possible that would be good. I need a job kinda bad. I live in the Boxer Apartments in Forest Grove but the
lease is running out soon. When the lease runs out my dad says he’s retiring to Mexico and that I can’t come with him and mom. He says I "deserve
to live out "the rest of my days" in Post-something-or-other (RayGun?) America. Do you even know what that means. My dad is just weird I geuss?
PPS I don’t know where me my wife and my daughter will be living after that, so if I don’t hear back in a while maybe I’ll get in touch with
your and we can go from there.
Thanks in advance you for your time and consideration!
edit on 6/4/2018 by DictionaryOfExcuses because: one teeny mistake
edit on 6/4/2018 by DictionaryOfExcuses because:
don't tread on me
edit on 6/4/2018 by DictionaryOfExcuses because: (no reason given)