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 Christmas 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 Viola 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 haemorrhoid 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 who stole you screaming from my bosom.