Actually, I should be a lot less specific. Perhaps matriarch? Or maybe, leader? I'm not even sure if you're a family or not. A group? Some sort of collective, conglomerate, or cult? All I know for sure is that you're an assemblage of people, blankets, and noise. One which extends from about 3.5 feet into the main path to about 75 feet into the nicest, sunniest, flattest part of the grass.
And to be fair, I'm just limiting this idea of scope to your most recognizable central mass. There are a lot of things and people which - although seemingly possessed by you - float discarded off the edges of your territory. There are of course cups, plates, napkins and cans that - although they most assuredly belong to you - have been forgotten after the wind moved them off of your blankets.
But I more so refer to the toys, balls, lawn games and razor scooters that mire the ground near your eastern perimeter. If considered part of your camp, they'd most definitely increase the boundaries of said border by at least another 20 feet. But you seem to have no knowledge of them; keen to let pedestrians and passerbys trip and stumble over their sharpest edges. That is of course unless another young child approaches (or in a most terrible scenario, touches) them, in which case your group yells and screams at the savage and unsupervised hoodlum. As would any humane person.
That is not to say that I view the children in your party in any such manner. Of course not. Although they do not seem to be watched or cared for in any sort of identifiable manner, I know they do not escape your watchful gaze. I know that when they unapologetically toss a football into a nearby family, or recklessly race their bikes down the most crowded walkways, they do so under your "contact-less supervision." Under a highly pragmatic and reasonable style of parenting that just appears "Laissez Faire" to the un-trained eye. I assume you learned it from the elders in your group?
I guess I also assume those elders are in your group? They seem to be orbiting around your party, and I get a distinct twinge of familial connection. Still, the fact that only strangers are attending to the one who fell down near the bathroom could throw this theory into doubt. I can't imagine you'd be so inattentive. I mean nothing like the careless dog owners between my party and yours. Those owners who have felt it sufficient to tie their dogs to a nearby tree; their canine compatriots still able to roam, bark, and bite within the circumference of their leashes. They're just pooping and chasing with no restriction or oversight.
At least you're nothing like those -- oh, wait. Now you're throwing bits of cold-cut chicken in their general direction.
I digress. I've gotten very far off the proverbial tracks here.
My reason for writing is that some time ago one of your relatives (or co-workers, or commune brethren) observed one of my friends using the bottle opener which we had brought to our picnic. Stomping over (and onto) our blanket they humbly asked if they could borrow it for a minute. Thinking nothing of such a small and civil request, we of course obliged.
I would say that was maybe four to six hours ago. I'm not 100 percent sure of the time - as I did not look at my watch when the transaction took place - but I am fairly confident that it has been an appreciable bit of time. At least enough for you to build up a small collection of bottles on the ground near your southern fringes. You know, right over there, perhaps 2 to 3 feet from the clearly labeled trash and recycling receptacles.
It's not that I counted or anything, but at my best estimate it appears you've opened - and discarded - 22 craft beer bottles (from various breweries on the Western seaboard), 85 bottles of half drunken Perrier, and a good number of singularly unique juice bottles. Who knew that aloe and white grape was a commonly found beverage? Or that wheat grass, honeysuckle, and rose-water could even be imbibed.
I don't mean be to be a pest, but it's just that in said time, my party-mates and I have been unable to drink anything which we brought to our little "day in the sun." We've tried to respectfully request the item back on several occasions, but have been met with various dilemmas. Some members of your gathering have told us "it wasn't ours," "they'd bring it back in a second," or that "they lost it." A few more have ignored us outright, or told us to go "screw ourselves."
As that seems like a horribly inappropriate way to resolve this situation, we would instead kindly ask that you return our bottle opener at your earliest convenience. We thank you for your cooperation in this matter.
Sincerely,
Andrew Slafta
P.S. It turns out that in the time it took me to transcribe this note, you have left the confines of the park. I tried sorting through your refuse for clues as to your future whereabouts, but was succumbed by exhaustion about two-thirds into pile four. That would be the easterly most cluster, about seven feet from the small fire which erupted from your improperly disposed charcoal.
P.P.S. In a most fortuitous moment, I was lucky enough to run into a small child on a bicycle you left behind. They assured me that this is a frequent occurrence, and in 3 to 4 hours when you realize this small (but wholly understandable) error she will pass along said note. For fear she'd forget it, I also wrote my address in Sharpie on her calf. It's right above the large scrape she believes you will be blaming on me. Thank you again for your timely response.
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