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 grandchildren. 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
grandbabies 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
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