Dear
Redneck
Son,
I
am
writing
this
letter
slow
because
I
know
you
cannot
read
that
fast.
We
don't
live
where
we
did
when
you
left
home,
your
father
read
in
the
newspaper
that
most
accidents
occur
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
numbers
when
they
moved
so
that
they
wouldn't
have
to
change
their
new
address.
This
place
is
really
nice.
It
even
has
a
washing
machine.
I'm
not
sure
it
works
so
well,
last
week
I
put
a
load
in
and
pulled
the
chain
and
haven't
seen
them
since.
The
weather
here
isn't
bad.
It
only
rained
twice
last
week,
once
for
three
days
and
the
second
time
for
four
days.
About
that
coat
you
wanted
me
to
send
you,
your
Uncle
Stanley
said
that
it
would
be
too
heavy
to
send
in
the
the
mail
with
the
buttons
on,
so
we
cut
them
off
and
put
them
into
the
pockets.
John
locked
his
keys
in
the
car
yesterday.
We
were
really
worried
because
it
took
him
an
hour
to
get
me
and
your
father
out.
Your
sister
had
a
baby
this
morning,
but
I
haven'
found
out
if
your
an
aunt
or
an
uncle.
The
baby
looks
just
like
your
brother....
Uncle
Ted
fell
into
a
whiskey
vat
last
week.
Some
men
tried
to
pull
him
out,
but
he
fought
them
off
and
playfully
drowned.
We
had
him
cremated
and
he
burned
for
three
days.
Three
of
your
friends
went
off
a
bridge
in
a
pick-up
truck.
Ralph
was
driving.
He
rolled
down
the
window
and
swam
to
safety.
Your
other
two
friends
were
in
back.
They
drowned
because
they
couldn't
get
the
tailgate
down.
There
isn't
much
more
news
at
this
time.
Nothing
much
has
happened.
Love,
mom
P.S.
I
was
going
to
send
you
some
money
but
the
envelope
was
already
sealed.
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