Congrats on your 52nd birthday. Where oh where, my wonderful friend, does time go. Seems like only yesterday we were kids playing in the doll house your daddy built for us. How wonderful it is that we’ve remained such close friends all these years. I am truly glad to hear you’re in such fantastic health and devouring life like a sixteen year old girl. With a devoted husband you and Harold are truly blessed. Say hi to Harold for me.
Boy, you must be really proud of your Eric. Top real estate agent in all of Ohio. Wow! And then there's the doctor in Houston Texas, your marvelous Mary Lynn. Is she and her husband, Mark, still sailing around the Caribbean.
Well, an update on my life. My Earl is chipping away at his to 30 prison bit. We still don’t think that damn search warrant was legal. No use crying over spilled milk. As you may have heard by now my , Thelma Jean, was once again arrested for . My god Martha how can they call her a whore just because of the way she’s dressed and walking down the strip? My kids have the worst luck of anybody I know.
I didn’t fare much better. It's been nine years since Larry threw me to the curb for the slut next door. I’ve been living in near poverty since the divorce. Sometimes I resort to picking up beer cans just to a meal at the 7eleven.
Gosh I wish I had your life Martha. If I could only walk in your shoes for a day it would be like a dream. You certainly keep me updated on your blue-ribbon children. And you never seem to tire of braying about your fabulous vacations with Harold.
Come to think of it you’ve never asked about my kids. Not even a ‘can we send Earl a box of candy’ or a ‘can we help out with Thelma's bail’. Hell no! All I ever get from you is your family and all their wonderful achievements. To be honest I’ve about had it with your rat-faced and that cocksucker you call a shoved up my ass with every letter.
As for your great health I hope you have a goddamn stroke and drag your varicose ridden leg behind your walker for the rest of your self-righteous life. I pray to god your sailboat goes down in middle of the Gulf of fucking Mexico. During a hurricane. It would please me greatly to hear your sons house burned to the ground with all occupants trapped inside. While your face is sagging like your tits think about me.
Anyway, Martha, just poking a little fun your way. All kidding aside I hope this year brings you much joy and happiness. It was sure nice chatting on the phone yesterday. Next time you and Harold come up be sure to stop by. We’ll catch up on old times and go down to Tim’s fine foods. (Dutch).
Your loving friend. Else.
p.s. Hope Harold gets killed in a fiery car crash.