Dear Wigleaf,

I've been meaning to ask about your name. Is it a socio-botanical term? Do you, with your many leaves, many seeds, and pear-like sweet dark flesh seek to conceal that which is shameful? Have you ever been split wigless? Is your headdress formidable, fashionable, green and blade-like? Does it consist of hinged flaps, foliage, printed material, or precious metal sheets beaten to the point of extreme thinness? Does the phrase "wigs on the green" (meaning a fight, since wigs drop after gauntlets) often come to mind? I picture you deliriously excited, periwigged, wigging out, flipping your shit, and destroying an exquisite Elizabethan drop leaf table. I await your response with curiosity.


Brooks Sterritt

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Read BS's story, "The Final Question."

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