Dear Madagascar,

Dear Madagascar,
I thought it only fair to let you know that there is somebody that is the same size as you. Not a country, but a single person. There is probably more than one now that I think about it, but this one lady is who I'm having an issue with getting over. She rides a scooter, which isn't surprising. Attempting to walk would probably break the brittle leg bones that are hidden beneath the many layers of blubber. I'm not writing this to be mean, I'm really not. I just thought you would like to hear of this so you can be warned.
Today, she was lurking in the smallest aisle of Wal-Mart, the one that contains the paper clips and other miscellaneous office products. She took up the whole aisle, leaving me with no choice but to climb the shelves in order to get around her. the other exit was blocked by two ravenous shoppers who had a rabid disposition about them. I figured I would take my chances with the one I had mentally dubbed "Scooter Lady". At first it was going to be "Mastadon" but there is already someone I know with that nickname. Sad, I know. But I'm not a mean person, let me stress this. I am merely... honest.
I was standing behind Scooter Lady, who was browsing at the small selection of paper clips, mumbling to herself in words I couldn't easily understand. I made a few small attempts to say
"Excuse me," as I awkwardly stepped on the metal displays/aisle separaters. She turned and saw my attempts, and grinned a grin that usually belongs to someone who just got a puppy.
"LOOK AT THESE PAPER CLIPS!" she said with an unmistakable southern drawl. "THEY'S METALLIC COLORS RIGHT THERE!"
Ah, yes. Metallic paper clips. A gold mine for those who tend to be easily entertained. And I mean very, very easily entertained. Maybe a kid with ADD/ADHD? Shiiiiiiiny.
"Um, well, yes. They're pretty," was all I could say as I squeezed myself by her, trying not to knock over the metal shelves I was climbing upon like an imbicile. I finally made it to open air that made my clausterphobia go away like flies on superglue.
"I could really use these paperclips," Scooter Lady continued, paying no mind to my previous efforts.
"Well then you go ahead and get those paperclips," I said as I slowly inched away from her, and rounded the corner to the next aisle before she could finish her next sentance. Perhaps it was rude of me to leave while she was talking, but I had a mission to complete. Finding birthday cards in that mess of a store is almost impossible. However, before you get disappointed, she did find me once again. At the cash register, one I picked because it was the one furthest away from the register that the Wal-Mart stalker was tending to, I saw she was leaving. She noticed me and made sure to hold up her new box of metallic paperclips and gesture towards them, making sure I knew that she succeeded in getting what she was so excited about. I nodded slightly and smiled, paid for my Uncle's birthday card, and left without another look back at the place that holds many evils that most don't dare to embark upon. But my uncle was worth it. You know you're loved when someone braves a Wal-Mart for you.
So my dear Madagascar, may you be warned. Stay away from Wal-Marts when possible, and always steer clear of anyone that seems unnaturally fascinated by metallic paperclips. It only ends in pain.
Being a small, underprivelidged African nation with the last of the lemurs, I wish you only the best. (I once had a toy lemur named George that was very near and dear to my heart.) I only wish that I may one day write to you again under much happier circumstances than this.
Hoping your are well,
Shae McClain