Eclectic Voices

Fiction, Monologues, Plays & More

Dear Rodrick


Part of our annual Halloween issue. Read at the 2016 Lit Crawl.
by Jeff Folschinsky

Dear Rodrick,

It’s with a heartfelt apology, that I must inform you that I will not be able to make it to this year’s festival of Samhain, or All Hallows Eve, as the provincials call it.

Instead of enjoying the celebration and camaraderie I’ve come to regularly enjoyed this time of year, I’ve have been informed by my lady that we must attend my brother-in-law’s wedding. Again.

Third time’s the charm she has informed me, but if you have met my relation by law, then you too would come to the inevitable conclusion that there will surely be an unlucky forth in his future.

One can only hope that he’s had the good sense to end the legal status of his last marriage before entering into this one. As to not repeat the troubles of his last wedding. Entertainment value aside, one can only be deposed as a “witness to the incident” so many times before the absurdity of the situation becomes far too much to bare.

I feel that another apology might be in order, as I realize that your son ascends into manhood this year, and as such will be participating in the Iobairt de Leanabachd, or as some of the more squeamish now refer to it, The Sacrifice of Innocence.

I realize how monumental this is, and speaking on a personal level, how much it meant to me to have you in attendance for our son’s after ceremony exorcism. My absence seems even more egregious now as I remember that it was you that ended up on the business end of my son’s dinner that was expelled along with the demon.

Unfortunately, I’m afraid these points have fallen on deaf ears, as my lady feels a nice congratulatory fruit basket will suffice in lieu of our presence. Not to be vulgar with the English vernacular, but a phrase that my eldest daughter used to use to the point of tedium keeps popping to mind; “as if!”

But alas, I’m powerless to take any action, as my lady was forced to attend a retirement party for a work colleague of mine last month, and now it appears it’s time to pay the piper as they say.

The tune I fear the piper will be playing though will be that of a dirge, and not one of merriment as surely you will be enjoying, so please, keep that in mind as you’re reading this, and try not to think too badly of me and my family.

If it’s of any consolation, the way my lady has been carrying herself as of late, I suspect their might be another number to my clan in the works. If this is indeed the case, and the time of his or her ascension comes, your absence will be most understandable.

Please give my salutations to the fellows, and if not too bold of a request, raise a glass for me, and let everyone know that I am indeed there in spirit, if unfortunately, not there in body.

Your Friend

P.S. If you happen to notice the curious lack of pomegranate in your fruit basket, then a final apology is in order. I have of late been having performance issues and heard this fruit helps with vigor. My lady had yet to inform me of the baskets true purpose, so I consumed them with great enthusiasm before one of our date nights, hence my suspicion of the newest clan member in the works. Obviously when next we meet, a round of ales on me will be in order. Until then, best regards.


Jeff Folschinsky’s plays have been seen at various theaters across North America. His plays The Unsinkable Bismarck, A Pill By Any Other Name Is The Wrong Dosage, Rendezvous and Revelations and Kisses From Abroad are published by One Act Play Depot. His full length plays Turkey Day and The Legend of Little Lump are published by both Norman Maine Play Publishing and Big Dog Play Publishing. His play he co-wrote with Tyler Tanner, The Singing Bone, is published by JAC Publishing. Jeff is the author of the Tales from Little Lump book series, with his third book due to come out this year.

One comment on “Dear Rodrick

  1. Pingback: Dear Rodrick — Eclectic Voices | Jeff Folslchinsky

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This entry was posted on October 31, 2016 by in Fiction and tagged , , , .
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