The (Un)Official Letters of Sticky and Constance
A Sticky Washington/Constance Contraire FanFic

by Mezzanote

Disclaimer: I do not own Sticky, Constance, or the Mysterious Benedict Society and/or anything related to it. Aaaand, I make no profit from this story, as awesome as it would be if I did. Mrreeh.

Sticky's letters are in complete bold.
Constance's letters are in complete italics.


Dear George Washington,

Today, I composed a new poem about your spectacles, but unfortunately and ironically I dropped it down a storm drain and I did not happen to have thirty seven spares hidden in my raincoat. This is quite a shame, you see, because the poem was quite lovely indeed. I produced a brilliant rhyme- 'glasses', because you have them, and 'molasses', because you're as slow as the gooey substance. Isn't it fantastic? I suppose I'll have to rewrite the whole thing, which I honestly don't want to do, but if you're really curious to know what it was like then maybe I'll consider it.

Anyway, have you heard from Kate lately? I mailed a book of poems about Madge she asked for to her about a week ago, and still no response. How ignorant of her. Reynie hasn't sent me anything lately either, though that may be due to the fact that I have yet to reply to his last letter...

Oh! I nearly forgot to ask; Rhonda wants to know how you're doing in those quiz championship-things. Apparently, you were mentioned in the newspaper after your last win. I don't get why she wanted me to ask you about them, if she knew you had won, but I promised her I would anyway.

I guess that's it for now. To answer your question, no, Mr. Benedict said he doesn't mind if you keep that particular copy- he has several more. Don't bother sending it back.

Sincerely,

Constance Contraire.

Dear Constance,

Though I am touched that you wrote a poem about me, it will be unnecessary to rewrite it. I can envision it already- "there once was a boy named Sticky, his bald head was quite icky, though it was filled with words of the tricky sort; he had his spectacles perched on his nose, which often turned as pink as a rose;..." (By the way, my head isn't icky!)

Yes, as a matter of fact I received a letter from Kate in the mail the same time I received yours, which was earlier this afternoon. I have yet to read what she says, though. Reynie sent me a letter two days ago, mentioning that you had not sent anything recently, so you had best get to writing back to him before he starts missing your fascinating poetry.

You can tell Rhonda that I've finished with my competitions for now. I finished in second place for the final round of the Stonetown 13th Annual "Are you a Genius?" Championship, and now I'm taking a temporary break. I should be returning in the spring though.

Tell Mr. Benedict I said thanks. "The Complete Encyclopedia of Typewriters- Second Edition" was fantastic. Quite riveting, indeed. You should read it sometime, Constance.

Also, how has school been for you? I know you aren't used to attending one in which other students are enrolled (in other words, something aside from Rhonda's private lessons), so I'm curious to know what it's been like. I remember when I used to go to school...

Reply soon, Miss Contraire.

-Sticky Washington

Sticky,

Hmm. His bald head was quite icky? I like that. Maybe I'll use it sometime. My original poem, however, was far better than that. For someone who knows a lot about poetry, you sure cant write it too well.

Do you really expect me to read a book about typewriters? I mean, come on Sticky, I know you just recently discovered that I enjoy reading, but do you have to ruin it so soon?

As far as school goes, I hate it. The children are snobby and mean, the teachers are weird, and everything is so high up. I mean, really, who fills a building designed for children with two-story lockers and desks that are nearly twice my height? I feel that a strongly-worded poem is in order...

Why School Should Not Exist
A poem by Constance Contraire

School is full of people so uncool
they make Sticky look like a fool (which he is)
I wish I could fill it with water
and make a giant swimming pool!

School is full of stupid rules
all of which were made by mules
who think they shine as bright as jewels
though really, they're stubborn and stupid!

Truly, schools and rules are tools for fools,
fools and mules in their giant swimming pool,
all of which who go to school and perch upon their too-high stools,
they say knowledge is the fuel
for becoming brilliant.

Well what do they know?

I will admit, it is a bit lengthy for my tastes, but I think the rhyming is good.

Guess what? Number Two bought me an ice cream today for helping her with the dishes, so I'm going to send you the spoon that was with it. I think you'll find it most interesting, as someone has written the letter S on the handle for whatever reason. S for stupid, s for school, s for sweets (oh, candy...), ...s for Sticky! Enjoy.

Don't call me Miss Contraire, George Washington. It makes me feel funny.

Sincerely,

-Constance.

Miss Contraire,

I feel sorry for you and your troublesome school, though there isn't much I can do about it. Ignoring the part about myself, your poem was quite admirable. You've gotten better with rhyming words. I don't think it was really that long. The longest poem ever written is called Beowulf, and it's much, MUCH longer. It tells a wonderful tale, you see, set in Scandinavia... there's this monster, Grendel, and he eats people and, well read about it if you like. I don't remember much about it because at the time, I wasn't so interested in it. It's been, oh, about... seven years since I read it last? Yes, that's about right. I would have been around your age, I believe. You are still six, aren't you? Right, that must be correct, because you don't turn svene until January. I nearly forgot.

The spoon you enclosed does in fact have an "S" printed on it. I wonder why.

Why can't I call you Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire?

I still wish you wouldn't call me George Washington.

-Sticky

George Washington,

I know, I'm getting better. I found several rhyming dictionaries in one of the holding rooms upstairs. They're so helpful, right George Washington?

Beowulf? Who would name a poem something like Beowulf? How do you pronounce that? And how long is the poem? Do tell me, George.

Yes, I am still six for the next two months. Unfortunately. Why can't I just grow up already? I want to be the same age as you and Kate and Reynie. (who finally wrote back- Kate was pleased with her Madge book. Ask her about it sometime, Mr. Washington.)

Why can't I call you George Washington? It only seems fair since you keep calling me Miss Contraire.

-Curious Constance

Miss Contraire,

Indeed, rhyming dictionaries are quite handy for poets and people who like to rhyme things... Miss Contraire.

BAY-wool-uf. Like as if it were to rhyme with 'Say wolf'. I do believe it is about 3182 lines long, but like I said, it's been a while. Any more questions, Miss Contraire?

Miss Contraire, you do realize that by the time you're fifteen, Reynie and I will be twenty-two, right? And Kate will be twenty-three. (Please, come now, Mr. Washington is my father ... Ha, I've always wanted to say that.)

You can't call me George Washington because I said so, Miss Contraire.

Regards,

Sticky

George Washington,

BAY-wool-uf. Hrm. What about the -eo? That isn't pronounced like -ay, right? Rendezvous, Beowulf, Illinois... I hate silence. And French, and Danes, and Illinoisans. GeorgeGeorgeGeorge.

WHAT? What kind of sick twisted logic is that? Will I never be as old as you? Geeeeeorge Washiiiiington...

STOP SAYING THAT, GEORGE WASHINGTON!

...Now, where has she hidden the licorice?...

-Constance

Miss Contraire,

Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire...

How 'bout them apples?

-Sticky

George Washington,

George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington,

Sixty nine times. I win.

-Constance

P.S. I'm not doing this again. I have blisters on my hand.

Constance,

Alright, fine! You win. What do you say to this: I wont call you Miss Contraire if you don't call me George Washington. Deal?

-Sticky

George Wa- I mean, Sticky,

Deal. Perhaps we should get Kate in on this so she'll stop calling me Connie Girl?...

-Constance

Constance,

Fantastic! I'll leave you to that, though. Good luck reasoning with her. She's almost as stubborn and simple-minded as you. No offense intended, of course...

-Sticky (P.S. This is my last piece of stationary, so it may be awhile before I can respond again.)

Sticky,

Thanks. Hrmph.

(Kate won't stop calling me Connie-girl now. It's like a repeat of what we just went through, except I can't come up with a nickname for her. I might write a little Terza rima instead. What rhymes with Wetherall? ...Tether-ball?...)

Oh. Why can't you use regular paper like a normal person, Geor- Sorry.

Write back, or else!

-Constance (not Connie-girl, not Miss Contraire; CONSTANCE!)


A/N: Okay, so here we have a short exchange of letters and notes between the ever-amazing Constance and Sticky. I just wondered what they might talk about through such forms of communcation, and this is what I came up with. Sorry if you don't like it, but that's just your loss I suppose. If you do like it, however, thanks much.

Now, so I can know whether you actually do like it or not (and so I can stop talking to myself), click the happy blue button down below and review, review, review!

(Also, I was bored once upon a time and actually wrote that Terza rima about Miss Kate, so in case you're curious about it, I'll include it in later chapters. If there are any, that is.)

EDIT: (9/16/2010)
Thanks much to everyone who helped kill my writers block, specifically Kahlan the Dream Spirit and sliz225.
I promise the next installment will be up very soon, hopefully later today. Finally!

I also changed the ages of our entertaining twosome, for purposes revealed in the next chapter- Constance is about six/seven, and Sticky is now fifteen/sixteenish.
I can picture Connie-Girl as a six year old, but Sticky, at fifteen... not so much. What do you guys think?