To the Woman who married Harry Styles,
It is I, Crepé La Bouche, Mistress of the Creepy. I write to you with awe, delicately playing inside my every word. You may not know who I am, as I normally write to celebrities. You are famous to me and I am quite fond of you. I understand your passions. Everyday you must have walked by the store. You were pining weren’t you? How much is that Harry in the window? Everyday Harry smiled at you. Flat and cardboard though he was, his smile called to you with its genuine warmth. The joy. The bliss!
Merrily you must have skipped when you finally got to take him home. I understand this, it’s like when I take home a stripper and they refuse to say the safe word. Pure unadulterated ecstasy. I’m sighing in contentment for the both of us. I went through your wedding album. I loved it.
The candle lit dinner where he proposed to you. The look on his face. Refer to the top of my letter to remind yourself of his completely happy expression. Unmoving. Awake. It reminds of a time when I had a man at my table. He had a ball gag on. I was eating soup. At a certain point he stopped moving. His eyes were open. I didn’t think anything of it. After all I was eating chicken tortilla. My favorite. Harry got you an engagement ring and brought you flowers! How romantic. I just got muffled screams when he woke back up. How anyone can fall asleep with a ball gag tied to a chair is beyond me. I don’t ask questions, though. I just do what I’m told.
The two of you at the altar. Aw. Your veil is still down as he hasn’t lifted it up for your first kiss. However, you are radiating from underneath it. This is the happiest day of your life.
You brought friends! That’s new. I don’t normally have people watch. I am impressed that they dressed up for you. They clearly know how important this day is to you. I know in most cases of mental illness its good to have a support system. I see yours enjoys role-play and enabling. I am actually impressed that you got both guys and girls to show up. Your powers of persuasion must be stronger than a roofie. Or you had a very good caterer. Open bar? Don’t look so frightened. He’ll say I do in his own silent and distant way.
Finally, the crown jewel in the wedding collection: you, Harry, and his friends. Your wedding dress is the purest of white to mirror your intentions. You won’t be doing anything dirty with cardboard Harry as wet ruins cardboard and he’s not laminated. Wrapping it up for protection applies to inanimate objects as well. I am sad that now with the veil off I realize we have missed the all important kiss where passions are laid bare in front of family and friends. I don’t think he used tongue. You might want to tell all the other members of his band that they should dress up and show more respect when attending the wedding of Cardboard Harry and his Real Lady Wife. You seem delighted his friends could share this special day with the two of you. It must’ve been hard for them to get a day off the window display. I hope it didn’t cost extra.
I lay here finishing this letter hoping that it reaches you after a very happy honeymoon. I bite my finger imagining how exciting it must’ve been. The unmentionable things that I would do to him that you know nothing about. I shall seal my letter with a kiss and leave you with a word of advice. Make sure Harry doesn’t play in the rain. A soggy Styles does not a happy life make.
Already Wet,
Crepé LaBouche
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