Dear friends and family,
Pardon me for not writing earlier, my son recently came home to declare himself a homosexual. He now possesses the physique of a full-grown adult, a solid torso and arms with the hair of a dozen Arab men, yet still crowned by that ridiculous babyface that is perpetually gleaming red.
My husband has since taken his atheism to the extreme, our backyard is full of dogs who I swear clone themselves in my absence. John is adamant to in his own words, “create a microcosm of the universe” with the dogs and prove that no intervention beyond nature, be it in the form of canine birth control or a formal system, is necessary for his dogs to prosper as a race.
My daughter Grace sits by our son’s bedroom door near midnight, to read out verses from her copy of the Bible. Both Grace and John have chosen their passive-aggressive campaign in our household, whilst as a mother I’ve had to assume a more unfavorable role.
I’ve had to insist that John sit on a different table during mealtimes, lest he sneeze and infect us with cancer of the genitals. Likewise, instead of washing the used linen sheets from his bedroom, I simply build a bonfire in our front yard to burn them.
As if things weren’t difficult enough, my grandchild Jack has developed a ‘personality’. He has begun throwing tantrums, and once tried to bite off my finger. One afternoon, I fell asleep on my bed and woke up to find him staring right at me with eyes like a cannibal.
Since then, I’ve built a small daycare in our living room, fencing him in with a wall composing of our most sturdy furniture. For toys I leave him a pair of chopsticks and a large Chinese mirror our neighbor Phil supposedly bought in Beijing. I normally don’t accept gifts from formerly convicted rapists, but I figured that the baby could use some playthings.
Last week the entire family took a trip to the nearby hypermarket, where wandering alone I caught our son Jacob grabbing condoms. I then ran away to a secluded isle to have a prolonged nervous breakdown, during which I was approached by a stout Asian lady who asked “Do you know where lettuce is?” and then, “Have you no shame?”.
Once recovered, I went to observe Grace standing by the meat counter and chatting flirtatiously with a helper. I read somewhere that the female vagina goes into overdrive after producing. I later found Grace some medicine to suppress her uncontrollable libido, and promised myself to watch keep an eye to see anything transpires between her and the meat helper.
We all later reconvened at the cashier, where John stood with a trolley full of dog food. Buried underneath all this, was our grandchild, who I discovered happily munching on some of the dog food that leaked out. I think it is amusing how he would eat absolutely anything! This morning I found a dead cockroach behind the fridge, and he ate it! This could develop into a talent he could capitalize,looks like our baby’s set to be a star!