Dearest Cupid,
I have to say, I'm a little concerned. Mostly because you look like you're two years old and you're flying around shooting unsuspecting bystanders with a bow and arrow. Like, since when is that acceptable behavior? I think you need to tone down the violence just a tad. Or maybe you need a bottle and a nap.
So, I did a little research on you, Cupid – a background check, if you will. And you are not as innocent as you look, little one.
It has been said that the weapon that you so nonchalantly carry around is rumored to be pretty strong, and anyone who gets shot by your arrow is supposedly overcome by uncontrollable desire. Oh, please sign me up for that. And yet, here you are, in your diaper, swinging that thing around like it's a damn Fisher-Price toy.
In fact, if you want to get specific, you actually have two types of arrows (a gold one for love and a lead one for aversion). I found out that you had a little mischievous fun playing with some of the Roman gods' emotions. It was not very nice of you to shoot a golden arrow at Apollo, who then fell madly in love with Daphne, and then launch a leaden arrow at her so she would feel repulsed by him. Not cool, Cupid.
It can't feel too good to be explained by ancient poets like this:
"Evil his heart, but honey-sweet his tongue,
No truth in him, the rogue. He is cruel in his play.
Small are his hands, yet his arrows fly far as death.
Tiny his shaft, but it carries heaven-high.
Touch not his treacherous gifts, they are dipped in fire."
It's okay, Cupid, sometimes power gets the best of all of us. It's not too late to change your ways; after all, you're only two-years-old.
And I just want to point out that I forgive you for outwardly skipping over me every single year – clearly you don't feel that I'm worthy of being shot in the ass with your ridiculous golden "desire" arrow. Well, guess what, Cupid; I don't need you to shoot me. I'm filled with uncontrollable desire every time I watch Magic Mike, so ha!
I mean, no offense, baby Cupid, but I refuse to believe that my only chance for love and happiness in this world is dependent on a toddler who hasn't even reached puberty yet. I need to understand how you got put in charge – why don't you swoop down here and we can talk about it.
I think the more important question here is, Cupid, why don't you ever age? Are you some rare breed of baby vampire sent here to take over the human race and make us all slaves to this ridiculous holiday by buying overpriced chocolate and stuffed animals and flowers and ... Oh, shit.
Well, listen to me, baby vampire Cupid; your jig is up and I'm on to you. People's emotions are not some game that you can play when you get bored of sleeping in your white fluffy cloud, or wherever it is you sleep. Stop interfering in everyone's lives – we can take it from here. You'll just have to enjoy a carefree life of flying and not paying bills. I am sorry that you have to wear a diaper forever, though. That must suck.
I'm not playing around, Cupid. Be a good little boy and knock it off. Or, you'll have me to deal with.
Sincerely,
Lindsey
P.S. I think you need a time out.
