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Dear Union Pacific | Seamus O'Sparks

Dear Union Pacific

By Seamus O'Sparks on October 14, 2017 — 2 mins read

Dear Union Pacific,

My name is Seamus and I have a heavy tale to lay on you. On Thursday morning I was heading to work and a train was stopped on the tracks blocking everybody who was trying to get to where they were going. It was about 6:50 am and there were lots of us hustling to get out there and stake our puny claim on the American Dream. This choo choo was totally stopped and it made everyone real mad. I was mad too. Spitting nails mad, if you can dig it. So, I rerouted and was put 10 minutes behind schedule. Because of this I had to eat the accelerator and blow it out my ass. I was careening, fast and reckless, when I hit a dog. It was a cute pooch-looked real loving and faithful too. But what choice did I have? With the hammer down and a bitch of a hangover chewing on my brain, I had no option but to drill the fucker. It was him or me. Some kids saw me do it and they shot the finger and shook their fists in the air. It was a pretty rotten way to start my day. But, I made it to work on time and only had a little bit of dog on the front of my car. So, my question for you is, how is it legal for trains to play grab ass in the middle of a town/city? Any other vehicle in the universe, from a Fiat Cinquecento to the Millennium Falcon, would be looking at some brutal legal action and a claw hammer to the skull if they pulled such a stunt. How come Casey Jones gets a pass on this? It seems pretty glib. It may not have been a Union Pacific train that caused me to reroute, pulverize a dog, and brutally traumatize some children the other morning. All trains look alike to me. Consequently, I am not sure if the hate in my heart should be necessarily directed at you. I was hoping, however, that perhaps you all could illuminate the perspective of your industry for me regarding the annoying habit trains have of stopping in the middle of busy towns. It fills everyone with the purple rage. Thanks for your time. I really want to understand this. For my own peace of mind. I’ve been waking up screaming with terrible dreams of a snarling and mangled dog giving me my comeuppance in hell. I have the sound of a locomotive relentlessly chugging in my head all the time. Please make it stop.



ps-why did y’all get rid of the caboose?

Posted in: Letters

The Story of Seamus

Seamus O'Sparks is the seventh son of a Seventh Day Adventist who went on a seven-day bender starting on July 7, 1977 at a strip club called Seventh Heaven at the corner of 7th St. and 7th Ave. in the West Village.