I don’t know how you are able to create such delightful refreshments. However your raspberry and peach flavored iced teas make my heart skip a beat and refreshes me like a plunge into the cooling waters of Old Harper’s Lake on a blistering summer’s day. The battlefield on a Southern summer day is like what I imagine the pits of fire and brimstone in hell feel like and when my throat is dry from all the yelling as we charge the Union soldiers, which I don’t really understand because it lets the enemy know where we are, all I desire is you and either your refreshing mango, raspberry or peach iced teas made with fresh-brewed tea.Īlthough, to be honest, since I may never gaze upon your round, joyful face again, I don’t really care for your mango flavored iced tea because it tastes like a sweet vegetable and not at all like the exotic tropical fruit of mango whose flavor makes my taste buds tingle with delight. Oh, how my war-battered heart yearns for your warm embrace, tender kisses, ample bosom and your Jacqueline D. It is quite good to hear about every minuscule moment in your life and because I keep your extensive book-length letters near my heart, you have prevented the enemy’s ammunition from striking my body.
I again apologize that I am not able to reciprocate an equal amount of correspondence. Your rain of letters bring sunshine to my days of fighting those from the North. I feel impelled to write a correspondence to you because I sense that death may soon be upon me and the thousands of men who fight alongside me. It has been a long time since I had an opportunity to write to you as I have been occupied by the hassles of our country’s Civil War. (Note: Please read this letter with a Southern accent.)
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