Letter From A Redneck Mother To Her Redneck Son
Dear Son,
I'm writing this real slow cause I know you can't read very fast. We don't live where we did when you left. Your Daddy read in the paper that most accidents happen within twenty miles of home, so we moved.
I won't be able to send you the address because the last redneck family that lived here took the numbers off the house with them for their next house so they wouldn't have to change their address.
This place has a washing machine. The first day I put four shirts in, pulled the chain and I ain't seen them since.
It only rained here twice this week. Three days the first time and four times the second time.
You know the coat you wanted me to send you? Well, Aunt Deloris said it would be too heavy to send in the mail with them heavy buttons on it, so we cut them off and put them in the pockets.
We got a letter from the funeral home. They said if we don't make the last payment on Grandma's funeral, up she comes!
Your sister had a baby this morning. I ain't heard whether it's a boy or a girl, so I don't know if you're an uncle or an aunt.
Your Uncle John fell into the whiskey vat. Someone tried to pull him out, but he fought them off, so he died. We cremated him and he burned for three days.
Three of your friends went off the bridge in a pick-up truck, one was driving; the other two was in the back. The driver got out. He rolled the window down and swam to safety. The other two drowned. They couldn't get the tailgate down.
There's not much news this time. Nothing much has happened.
Love,
MamaP.S. Daddy is now retired and collecting his rocking chair money and hunting and fishing all the time. He would like to play golf but he can't understand a game where the high score does not win.