|Forum topic by TopamaxSurvivor||posted 09-27-2009 09:37 AM||1133 views||0 times favorited||15 replies|
09-27-2009 09:37 AM
A father passing by his son’s bedroom was astonished to see that his bed was nicely made and everything was picked up. Then he saw an envelope, propped up prominently on the pillow that was addressed to “Dad.” With the worst premonition he opened the envelope with trembling hands and read the letter.
Stacy has opened my eyes to the fact that marijuana doesn’t really hurt anyone. We’ll be growing it for ourselves and trading it with the other people that live nearby for cocaine and ecstasy. In the meantime we will pray that science will find a cure for AIDS so Stacy can get better. She deserves it.
Don’t worry Dad. I’m 15 and I know how to take care of myself. Someday I’m sure that we will be back to visit so that you can get to know your grandchildren.
Love, Your Son
P.S. Dad, none of the above is true. I’m over at Tommy’s house. I just wanted to remind you that there are worse things in life than the report card that’s in my center desk drawer.
I love you.
-- "some old things are lovely, warm still with life ... of the forgotten men who made them." - D.H. Lawrence