(Because you’ll be offended and you’re really dumb) Dear Mr. Unicorn

Dear Mr. Unicorn,

You are really dumb. I’ve already hinted at that somewhat, so let my take the time to explain to you on my personal blog how you are really really dumb because clearly we’ve got a blind leading the blind kinda situation on our hands.

Haley: How do you find a Unicorn, Mr. Dumb?

Generally speaking, you have to know a lot about Unicorns.

Idiot audience: But Haley, how would YOU catch a Unicorn, then???

I am a motherfreaking, Unicorn, you idiot.

Anyways, I digress. I am a Unicorn that knows it’s a Unicorn. You are a Unicorn that thinks it’s a duck. It’s kinda funny. You keep quacking and flapping your wings all around like an idiot, but you never asked what you are, and since your also a mute Unicorn, you only have ducks as a reference, even though you were born into a herd of Unicorns. Idk why, but generally speaking, something about ducks appeals to you. You like the quacking and the flapping. Great; I get it. But the quaking and the flapping doesn’t make you not a Unicorn.

If it talks like a duck, and walks like a duck, must it be a duck? Well, generally yes, unless it’s a Unicorn.

If it looks like a Unicorn, walks like a duck, and talks like a duck, what is it? Well generally, I’d estimate that it’s probably a Unicorn walking and talking like a duck.

You are dumb. But you’re still a Unicorn. I may be able to see that you’re a Unicorn, but how do you think I know that you are a Unicorn?

Well, Mr. Unicorn, you actually act a lot like a Unicorn when you’re not with ducks, and when you’re with other Unicorns. It’s like it comes naturally. It’s a gift. I don’t know exactly how you attained your Unicorn status, but let me just say that some of us Unicorns know what Unicorns look like because we weren’t just ducks, we were the freaking gut-loving bacteria that lived in the belly of the flies that the ducks ate. Therefore, we asked God to make us into Unicorns. And now, we know how to tell Unicorns from ducks, and basically everything else that we were before.

But anyways, you are a freaking Unicorn. Not a three-headed Unicorn, unless each of those is like the Holy Spirit and the Voice of the Enemy sitting on your shoulder bickering about whether or not you’re a duck. Accept the Unicorn, you idiot. Maybe you’ll even learn to speak if you ask God nicely. Or if you spend enough time around other Unicorns.

But yeah, I don’t know, Unicorns are stubborn so they make their own independent choices, even when they’re as dumb as a duck. Let me know how all that flapping and quacking works out. You’ll still be a motherfreaking Unicorn afterwards, and if I manage to cling to my Unicorn status while you quack and flap, maybe I will be too.


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I am a second-grade teacher and pastor-to-be who loves people. I spend my weekends with friends or wandering the museums of DC alone and with a journal, trying to put words on the places of the soul that still feel wordless. I spent most of my days at school trying to learn patience through my students and running on sheer nerdy passion. I follow Jesus Christ, and savor that as my most important identity--that I am a child of God, as are infinite others, regardless of their other identities. Christ is my one thing.

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