Letter From Home
My Dearest Redneck Son, I’m writing this slow, beacuse I know you can’t read fast.
We don’t live where we did when you left home. Your dad read in the newspaper
that most accidents happen within 20 miles of your home, so we moved. I won’t be able
to send you the address because the last Arkansas family that lived here took the house
numbers when they moved so they wouldn’t have to change address.
This place is really nice. It even has a washing machine. I’m not sure it works so well, though.
Last week I put a load of clothes in and pulled the chain. We haven’t seen them since.
The weather isn’t bad here. It only rained twice last week; the first time for three days, and the
second time for four days.
About that coat you wanted me to send you; your Uncle Billy-Bob said it would be too heavy to
send in the mail with the buttons on , so we had to cut them off. You can find them in the pockets.
Bubba locked his keys in the car yesterday. We were really worried because it took him two
hours to get me and your Pa out.
Your sister had a baby this morning, but I haven’t found out what it is yet so I don’t know if your
are an aunt or uncle. It’s the dangdest thing, but the baby looks just like your brother.
Uncle Bobby-Ray fell into a whiskey vat last week. Some men tried to pull him out, but he
fought them off and drowned. We had him cremated; he burned for three days.
Three of your friends went off a bridge in a pickup truck. Bubba was driving. he rolled down
the window and swam to safety. Your other two friends, Cletus and Buford, were in the back.
They drowned because they couldn’t get the tailgate down.
There isn’t much more news at this time. Nothing much out of the normal has happened.
Your Favorite Aunt,