Letter from home

My Dear Little Dewey,

Well, the cold’s comin’ on agin and jes’ this week we’ve had another three hogs die from the fever. Pa says the hoggin’s better here’n it was in West Virginia, but Lord knows there just ain’t enough hands to take care of the swine proper, and we even had to close the meth lab. Your little sister Darla is helping all she can, but she cain’t work sloppin’ no more’n 12 hours at a stretch in her condition.

Dewey, I was hopin’ you’d come on down to Nome and talk some sense into that girl, on account of how close you are and seein’ as how you two have the same daddy. It jest ain’t befittin’ a good Christian girl like Darla to go out every night drinkin’ whiskey and smoking and doin’ lord-knows-what with those boys at the roadhouse. Makes me fit to cry, and her in a fambly way and all.

Your Pa and I worry about all you boys, up there in Yankee land with all them drug addicts and no-good lawyers and Methodists and worse. Without yer Pa and me around, who’s keepin’ Dirk off the chickens and makin’ sure yer little brother cousin Eddie’s hands stay over the duvet? I’ve been on my knees with Pastor Huckabee every day, prayin’ till tears come out’n our eyes that you’ll stop playin’ that sinful rock ’n’ roll music. Don’t you know it rends the soul wide-open to the Devil? Lookit what happened to Dwight.

You boys should be back here in Nome in the loving arms of kin. Any time yer ready, jes’ send a telegram up this way and we’ll be there to meet you.

With love,
Ma Dangler

P.S.: Yer cousin Maylene was by on Wednesday and I’ll be durned if somebody ain’t done knocked her up ag’in. She won’t say who’s behind it but I know Pa didn’t have at her because he’s back on the whiskey. Well, you can imagine I told her she has no future unless she finds the no-good varmint who done it and marries him, ’specially if she don’t finish up gradeschool first so’s she can get a job at Wal-Mart. Anyhow, she says she really needs to talk to you.