Dear Westboro Baptist Church,

I arrived for my date at the grave yard and was surprised you were there to escort me. Did my date send you? At first glance I didn’t know if the signage was appropriate for a first date. Nonetheless I had my black on and my veil. Quiet tears streamed down my face as I approached the casket that holds my beloved. Through my haze of tears I read “God Hates Fags.” I didn’t know that he had such an aversion to smoking, but the urge to quit seems much more urgent now.

I threw myself on the casket. Silent sorrow swallowing me up but hopeful for the sex promised tonight. My head rolled to the side and I saw a “Fag Troops” sign. He must have sent these. He was such a trooper. No no don’t put it there. Oh put it there! Another one said “You’re going to Hell” which we always used to joke about after we finished one of our sessions. Surely I was supposed to be here. I kissed the casket as the sun was sinking lower. There were so many people shouting. It was getting so late and I was getting so turned on. My eye caught another one, “No Peace for the wicked” Hopefully. So many colorful signs. All for me. It was the oddest and most touching flower arrangement I had ever received. Do I dare open the casket? Do I reach inside? To kiss him. To touch him. My thoughts and revelry were broken by a creaking.

The casket was flung open and me off of it. I dusted myself off and watched him sit up a little dazed. A growl escaped his lips barely audible over the angry shouts. He was hungry. I knew because his lips curled back into his pale marble white skin and I could see that his fangs were bared. He spotted me on the ground and the angry people around the casket he slept in during the day. In a flash I knew what he must’ve been thinking. He let out a roar. My beloved so strong. So virile. So thirsty. Under the light of the full moon I watched him slaughter the flowers that you sent me. Their blood curdling screams let a little sigh of contentment escape my lips. He was protecting me. Afterwards we made love rolling around on the ground in an animalistic style. He was the protector. He was inside me. Holding me close. He was beautiful. Even with a bit of intestine in his hair. I don’t know if playing water balloon fight with people’s bladders is something you’ve ever experienced after sex, but I would try it sometime.

Anyways, I’m writing to let you know that some of your people won’t be making it back home. We did appreciate their services as they made for a terribly romantic evening. One that I will never forget.

Bathed in love,

Crepé LaBouche

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