Dear Darling Son and That Person You Married,

Merry Christmas to you, and please don't worry. I'm just fine
considering I can't breathe or eat. The important thing is that
you have a nice holiday, thousands of miles away from your ailing
mother. I've sent along my last ten dollars in this card, which I
hope you'll spend on my grandchildren. God knows their mother
never buys them anything nice. They look so thin in their
pictures, poor babies.

Thank you so much for the Christmas flowers, dear boy. I put them
in the freezer so they'll stay fresh for my grave. Which reminds
me -- we buried Grandma last week. I know she died years ago, but
I got to yearning for a good funeral so Aunt Viola and I dug her
up and had the services all over again. I would have invited you,
but I know that woman you live with would have never let you
come. I bet she's never even watched that videotape of my
hemorrhoid surgery, has she?

Well son, it's time for me to crawl off to bed now. I lost my
cane beating off muggers last week, but don't you worry about me.
I'm also getting used to the cold since they turned my heat off
and am grateful because the frost on my bed numbs the constant
pain. Now don't you even think about sending any more money,
because I know you need it for those expensive family
vacations you take every year. Give my love to my darling
grandbabies and my regards to whatever-her-name-is -- the one
with the black roots who stole you screaming from my bosom.

Merry Christmas.

Love, Mom