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A Letter Home             by: Anne O’Nonymous

 

On her way in, Mrs. Evangeline Winthrop picked up her mail, and carried it into the livingroom where she dropped it on a chair. She proceeded to a sideboard, found her brandy, poured a stiff drink, and returned, sipping her drink, to see what had arrived!

"Bill, bill, ad, ad, bill, postcard," she intoned, as she perused the mail, "and a letter, addressed to Ms. Evangeline Winthrop." "Hmm, I wonder who sent this?" she said, noting the rather feminine handwriting in the address!

Placing the rest of the mail aside, she opened the letter using a knife she kept for that purpose. Removing the contents of the envelope, she noted the two sheets of folded, lined notebook paper. Unfolding the papers, she started to read:

To: Mrs. Evangeline Winthrop (I cannot bear to apply the word "dear" to you!):

This is to be the first, last, and only letter you will receive from me, your (ha) son! I cannot bear to even think that I am related to you, you bitch!

I would inquire about your health, but I really don’t give a damn! You died to me long ago when you decided to pull that feminizing crap on me! Be your little girly-boy.

You do remember when I lived (ha) in your house? When I attended school? What you did to me? Of course, you do! You went out of your way to make me what I am today--a lonely, cocksucking queer! I left your home at seventeen, no college, didn’t even finish high school! Those rumors you had spread really worked, and those pictures with black men, one at each end and me in a dress--well, that really screwed me up! (Oh, I made a funny--Ha, I’m laughing!) Remember when I came home in a dress ripped to pieces and told you I was raped? What did you say--I deserved it for dressing so provocatively! Hell, I was a boy in a freakin’ dress that YOU made me put on, along with that frilly underwear!

Let’s go back further--when you made me break up with Suzy Collins? And Janice Smith! And Patti Anderson. Here I thought I could at least have one girlfriend, but you wouldn’t have it! All those men you dressed me for! Ms. Winthrop, just how much did they pay you for those services, huh? Did you really get your kicks watching me, your son dressed in your clothes, getting screwed by whatever lowlife you could find on the street? Yeah, and that wedding, I WAS under sixteen. You remember the wedding, don’t you? You chained the two of us together! Me and Peter. He was that Janitor. Took you two days to find those freakin’ keys!

Oh, before I forget--Mrs. King said that I made a very nice maid. Too bad she didn’t know I was your son--I wonder what would’ve happened if she knew! And Carlotta Pettigrew? I think her husband has something to do, oh, now I remember, he was the bastard that damn near ripped my ass open. I wonder if he lubes before screwing her? Say, did you ever show her the video? I’ll bet she’ll get a real kick out of it, and I know, for sure, his boss will!

One thing I don’t understand though. I was never a problem to you, and I obeyed you at all times. I got the best marks I could in school. I washed, ironed, mended clothes, waxed and polished furniture, mopped floors, dusted, put out trash, washed your car, did dishes and other housework. I kept away from drugs, didn’t drink, smoke, stay out late! So, my question is this: WHY?

I thought it might be because of father leaving us when I was very young! Then, I found out you drove him out with your extravagant lifestyle. I really do not think you ever loved him, and I am damn positive you never, ever loved me! Were you doing this to get back at him?

Now that I’m away from you I find the only way I can earn enough to live on is to be a he whore. Sounds like a donkey, doesn’t it--He Whore! What a way to live!

Do you know what you really, really did? Imagine a block filled with houses, now a wrecker comes along and tears down one of the houses in the middle of the block! He tears it out completely, leaving a great big gap and nobody builds anything there. That’s what you did to me--you tore me down completely, leaving me with nothing! No self-esteem, self-respect, pity, compassion, NOTHING!

I got to cut this a little short, I’m getting sick, even thinking of you! Oh, don’t worry, I wouldn’t bother you again! You see, I contracted AIDS. I’m not going to die from that-- after mailing this letter, I will take a dose of a slow acting poison, and there’s a .38 pistol about two feet from me that I will use! Funeral and the viewing will be for friends only! That certainly leaves you out!

Your Whatever,

 

She put the letter down, smiled, took a drink of her brandy, and said to her self, "I’m finally rid of that little asshole!" She slowly ripped the letter to shreds, and threw in in the wastebasket! "I will really enjoy dinner tonight!"

 

Finis--Anne O

 


2001
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