I want just one small thing and it’s already been made very easy for you: I want Jack Schaap to be really, really unhappy, he is a man now. You get my drift, I know. Even though this may be happening as I write, I would feel much better with confirmation. I’ll supply a sleigh full of licorice whips and whiskey as a small token of appreciation.


About the author

Melissa McCollum

I am a girl pushing against a naturally constructed stone wall and guess what? I will never give up. I am much more of a fighter than, I believe, despite shuffling very little rock in my life, my 31 years. I just want my work out there. The rest will take care of itself.

My name is Melissa McCollum, a poet since the age of 14, born on Bastille Day, 1982. I’ve always thought that was a summary of who I am: Fireworks and the powerful rush and waves overcoming the crowd taking me up with them as my feet are somehow still on the ground and the loss of reserve as my every facet are enmeshed in worship. Of course, we can’t forget the Quaaludes.

Oh, yeah. I have balled my eyes out watching Doctor Who.