Funny

An Open Letter To All The Chapsticks I’ve Left To Die In Weird Places

Mr. Chapstick,

I just want to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve left you to reside in my purse next to all of the unidentifiable crumbs at the bottom that have been there forever. They have been there so long that even dental records couldn’t crack the code on them if they had teeth. I’m sorry I have left you in my coat pockets to be washed. Usually you’ve made it like a trooper, unless you failed to escape before being shoved into the dryer. Let’s take a temporary moment of silence for all of your brethren who have fallen before you.

I’m sorry for the times I left you out in the car. Especially in the summer.

Yesterday, I opened up the trunk of my car and saw you rolling around back there. I promise I was not looking for a place to dump your body like a criminal. Also, I was not trying to smuggle you into a drive-in movie. I have no ill will against you and this is not 1955.

On a positive note, I would like to say thank you. I appreciate all the times you have covered my chapped lips. Like really chapped lips. So chapped that most decent people just look away.

Decent [dee-suhnt]: adj. The kind of people who look away when there is a car wreck on I-75. The scene is horrific enough. Don’t cause another wreck because you can’t unglue your eyeballs from their bumpers.

After braving the crust, you’ve stayed on like a trooper. When the lip gloss jumps ship to land on coffee cups, you’re still there holding on strong. I know I can count on you more than the guys I’ve kissed in the past. You were there first, always making sure I didn’t sandpaper their lips off (even though most of their lips were like head-on collisions on 75). Once more, I would like to apologize on their behalf.

Yours truly,

Betsy TC mark

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