Angel's Craft
Dear Darling Son and That Person You Married,
Merry
Christmas to you, and please don't worry. I'm just fine considering I can't
breathe or eat. The important thing is
that you have a nice holiday, thousands of miles away from your ailing mother.
I've
sent along my last ten dollars in this card, which I hope you'll spend on my
grand children. God knows their mother
never buys them anything nice. They
look so thin in their pictures, poor babies.
Thank
you so much for the birthday flowers, dear boy. I put them in the freezer so they'll stay fresh for my
grave. Which reminds me -- we buried
Grandma last week. I know she died
years ago, but I got to yearning for a good funeral so Aunt Berta and I dug her
up and had the services all over again.
I would have invited you, but I know that woman you live with would have
never let you come. I bet she's never
even watched that videotape of my hemorrhoid surgery, has she?
Well
son, it's time for me to crawl off to bed now.
I lost my cane beating off muggers last week, but don't you worry about
me. I'm also getting used to the cold
since they turned my heat off and am grateful because the frost on my bed numbs
the constant pain.
Now
don't you even think about sending any more money, because I know you need it
for those expensive family vacations you take every year. Give my love to my
darling grand babies and my regards to whatever-her-name-is -- the one with the
black roots in her hair who stole you screaming from my bosom.
Merry
Christmas,
Love,
Mom
Courtesy
of Jolene
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