October 22, 2017
Miss Valerie Voss
123 Rude Street
Excuse-me ville, Arizona
First things first, I know I’m perfect. And I know you, Valerie, are envious of me. It’s not very difficult to understand. In the wise words of Gretchen Weiners, “I'm sorry that people are so jealous of me. But I can't help it that I'm popular.” But, as the moral and ethically responsible person I am, I am going to try to help you understand that you should stop being envious of me. Because really, why else would you be trying to steal my spot as class president? I have been class president for the past two years, and if you think you’re going to run against me with your “better leadership” and “real voice of the students” campaign, you’re sorely mistaken. You’re not running.
Right now, you’re probably trying to make some sort of objection, because you’re annoying like that. But, before you do, show me where I asked for your opinion. I didn’t, so let’s move on so I can take a nap. Now, I’m sure you’ve heard of Sierra Stone. Freshman year she seemed perfect, too perfect. Perfect grades, perfect style, perfect hair, perfect personality. A perfect leader. But you know what happened to her. In case you don’t let me refresh your memory.
She decided to run for class president (of course). Unfortunately for her, I was also running. And maybe Sierra was perfect, but I was cunning and calculating (two of my many wonderful qualities). I was not about to let her take my job. Maybe my grades were a little lower, and I might have been flunking math but hey, I was prettier, and I was not about to lose to her. So maybe I was a little envious of her, but I also needed something on my college transcript other than a 3.1 GPA. I needed to be class president. So I devised a plan to get it.
Scandal is what I needed for Sierra to lose. And oh my God, scandal is what she got. I didn’t have any classes with Sierra that year, but my friends did. I knew that she had biology seventh period, which was upstairs, and Spanish eighth, which was on the ground floor. Stairs were the perfect weapon. A week before the election, I went to the nurse at the end of English for my “super bad” headache. Of course, I went upstairs and waited for Anne and Steph, my friends, to come out of biology with Sierra. I was saying stuff like “Oh my God, it’s such a coincidence to see you here. Let’s catch up,” blah, blah, blah. We were making our way down the stairs, when, oops, I “accidentally” tripped Sierra. It was only the third step from the bottom, and I didn’t think she would get really hurt, just be humiliated enough to lose the election. But, I had nothing to do with what happened after she fell, I was merely an indirect link. When Sierra fell, she let one rip. Blame it on the burrito she had for lunch because, oh my God did it echo through the stairwell. At least 50 kids heard it, and I was sent into full hysterics, unable to breathe because I was laughing so hard. I know, we’re just a few years away from becoming legal adults, learning about chemical equations and World War II, yet we still can’t maintain our composure when talking about a bodily function. It happens, but it doesn’t mean you won’t be brutally mocked for it. Poor Sierra turned bright red, her social standing demolished in a matter of seconds. She was literally speechless as Anne and Steph helped her up (also barely holding in their snickers). Sierra slinked away and that was that. The news was around the school in an hour, and the next week, what do you know, I won the election. Success.
I know you think that what I did was really cruel, and you probably hate me now. But, news flash, I don’t care. I just needed to get my point across. I really (actually kind of half-heartedly) hope I never have to do something so iconic as that again. But, if you refuse to withdraw yourself from the election, I might be forced to take action. But really, all you have to do is stop envying my life. I know what envy is like, and, speaking from experience, I know what it can drive someone to do. So, you know I have a bunch of dirt on you to dissuade you from taking this letter to an administrator. Trust me, it’s way worse than removing yourself from this election. It’s okay, though. Find something for yourself, maybe, Math Club? Envy is a terrible disease, but I got over it two years ago. You, clearly not so much. Get well soon!
Current Junior Class President, Westwood High
P.S. Don’t even think about trying to pull any stunts on me. Don’t test me.