The Dwarf that Dances and Other Momentous Moments

  Ah, yes, Bebo has left us at last.  We miss him quite horribly, although I am sure that he does not miss us, given that he is off in the Land Down Under having lovely adventures with the indomitable Lenard.  Or Lenerd.  Or, as he himself prefers, Leonard.  Anyway, although Bebo probably never even thinks about us, we (or at least I) think about him often.  Just yesterday, as I was shivering in my box (the one located on the lawn of my parents), wishing for a wool coat, I thought, "Ah!  I shall go and see Bebo in his nice, warm, sturdy box, and drink week-old refried apple cider with him!"  But alas!  I remembered that, not only has Bebo Moved On To a Better Place, but he took his box with him.  I can't even steal it and live in a decent chunk of cardboard for a change.  Life is tough when one's friends move away...
  Ah!  I have news, though!  NEWS!  Yesterday there was a Dancing Dwarf sighting made by none other than your faithful correspondent, Hugo!  Well, it might perhaps be more accurate to say that there was a Hugo the Horrible sighting made by your absent friend the Dancing Dwarf, but these are merely frivolous details.  The substance of the issue is that Hugo and the Dwarf (Good grief!  It sounds like the title of a very bizarre fairy tale...) got together and actually had some communication.  It was lovely!  Hugo even got some exercise, for they walked a good deal as they had the above-mentioned communication.  Hugo almost never exercises.  He really should.  The downside to this particular exercise, however, was that Hugo was wearing high heels at the time, which was very stupid of him, especially since his parents specifically forbade him to cross-dress.  Nevertheless, high heels aside, we had a lovely time.  Or at least I did.  I think that the Dancing Dwarf did, too, but it can sometimes be hard to tell with that creature...
  Speaking of that creature, in some ways she really reminds me of my cat, which will of course offend her horribly when she reads this, because she hates cats.  If it is any comfort to you, O Dwarf, it would horribly offend my cat, too, but only because everything horribly offends my cat.  Last night, after feeding her generously with my own hands, and speaking to her flatteringly with all the (considerable) charm that I possess, she still bit me when I picked her up and gave her a kiss.  That little Fiend. All of this is absolutely not to say that the Dwarf is a Fiend, or that I would ever want to pick her up and give her a kiss.  Urgh.  (No offence, Dwarf).  I think that what I was aiming at when I started this nonsensical paragraph was that my Fiend is capricious, and the Dwarf is capricious.  Or something like that.  Or maybe I wanted to say that my cat is very pleasant to be around (despite the biting) and the Dwarf is also very pleasant to be around.  Yes!  That's it!  (Whew.  Nice save, Hugo.)
  Okay, so, now that I am stuck in the mud at the bottom of a very deep hole, dug entirely with my own hands, will someone please help me out?
  Today I took a Spanish test and turned in two chapters' worth of homework.  Unfortunately, since I was late, I did not turn the homework in in the manner requested by the teacher.  Then, as I was wasting her time turning in the homework the wrong way, I realized that I had not stapled it in the manner requested by the teacher.  She was understandably exasperated.  I was panicking, and the teacher was lecturing me as she shuffled with my messy, uncontained homework, when I was rescued by a classmate with a stapler.  Frantically grateful, I seized the stapler and stapled the homework.  However, I stapled it the wrong way! The teacher was more frustrated than ever as she struggled with the unweildy papers.  I wished for a massive earthquake to tear the floor of the classroom apart and drop me into a crack in the Earth's crust, but I had no such luck.  Finally, my poor, overworked teacher finished checking off that bloody homework, and I fled, trailing apologies and disorganization.  I confidently expect to fail the class; I have not been more mortified in a classroom since that One Time last winter in English 102.  Woe is me...
  You know, I think that the hole is deeper now, and the mud clammier and more abundant.  I think that I will stop writing and go hide under a rock,
   Your humiliated uncle,
    Hugo
 
P.S.  Am I the only one who appreciates the Screwtape Letters reference of my recent signatures?