December 24, 2009
Christmas Letter
Well, a blizzard has stranded us in a motel in Big Spring for Christmas Eve–but we have a stock of libations that should help. Here is this year’s contrived Christmas letter; some of you will recognize the main characters from previous letters. We hope all clusterflockers are warm and happy, wherever you are!
Christmas letter from Russell Sandene since Aunt Winnie was going to write but passed away,
Don’t you all worry—I’m here at the apartment hotel complex Aunt Winnie owned, watching over everything what with her not having a will like everybody thought she did. Poor thing was so good to me during my illegal incarcerations. She sent me letters about how to make money even in jail. If you all are trying to remember me from any of the family reunions in the past, don’t—I was there in my heart but people will turn on you if the law has made mistakes and they know where your going to be.
Aunt Winnie has all these Chiwowwows you could sure help me out with if you have kids you want chewed down to size. I put them under the house but they ate back up threw the floor at the vents. Haven’t had much trouble with them today since I fed them all that gravy and bisket dow.
It has been a hard year for me. I know—Aunt Winnie wins (ha ha) but somebody you love going doesnt pay the bills while you are waiting for the life insurance check. If you want to send flowers just send me your credit card number and I’ll get everything from here. Oh—Aunt Winnie had a winning lotto ticket she wanted to get around the taxes on by transferring parts of it to friends. All you have to do is open an account at her bank here in Terrell—she has a secret friend there who will slide funds around like she wanted. Just send me $500 to open the account for you—that’s what they want to start one—and I’ll get the ball rolling for you.
Don’t yall worry about me and food! Aunt Winnie has a room with five deep freezes in it and they are packed. I don’t think she was a hunter but she has enough deer sausage in there to feed all the Christian retreats in Texas. And cheese? I didn’t know you could freeze it but there it is. That and pecans. She was a nut getter. I guess arthritis didn’t stop her from slamming the cracker all night long.
Hold on somebody’s at the door. Okay I’m back—it was that nasty woman always wanting to call the drain cleaners. Last time I told her to buy a snake but she just got religious. She holds her bible like a waiter with a tray.
Aunt Winnie’s last words to me were—Russell, Jesus is calling me home and there’s nothing for me to do but leave everything with who I know will do the most good with it—You. Jesus told that to me in a dream in case I didn’t see it that way.
She was so nice. Just hid her jewlry and went to heaven in her sleep with all her clothes on. I took care of the cremation like she told me to, at a discount. Ashes to ashes and blowin in the wind.
Aunt Winnie had some books here she wrote if any of you want some of them to sell. I guess the one she has the most of is called God Wants You to Be Paid. And there’s another one here called Bake Like you Mean It. She wrote some poems too but I don’t think they would be so good for Christmas.
Okay gotta go, there’s some old guy been putting up Christmas lights out there and now he’s off the ladder swingin. I am starting to see why Aunt Winnie needed help like she did. People are mean or dip shits, one or the other.
So Marry Xmas and come or send money any whichaway you can– Yours in the Lord, Russell
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Amen.
That Russell Sandene can tell a tale, and that’s the truth. That man just lives to embellish.
I hope Russell gets that man back on the ladder!
(PS: Y’all aren’t really in Big Spring, are you?)
Happy xmas, Daryl. Happy xmas, Cindy. Happy xmas, Mia.
Happy xmas, all y’all. We love you every one.
XORick&Danny.
(P.S. soon we’ll be off the the Quality Hill Playhouse for the matinee Holiday Show, then back here for Christmas Eve dinner. Danny’s making a crown pork roast and dressing. We haven’t had lunch ‘cept a couple glasses of wine while we’re gettin’ ready. I’ve pressed the napkins for “special.”)
All that gravy and bisket dow.
Cooper, honest to Pete–we’re in Big Spring, stuck like a pig. The weather here has cleared. The problem is around Weatherford–it’s still in the 20s, and I-20 is said to be impassable in that hilly area west of Weatherford.
We done went to Subway for lunch and found a little grocery store, where we bought a bottle of Korbel and some blue lights for our motel window. We scoped out a wonderful-looking Mexican restaurant for Christmas Eve supper. I’m beginning to like it here. If the water didn’t taste like an oil well, I might could see staying on for a spell.
Haven’t seen Uncle Tump.
Oh, and that Russell Sandene is one no count, sorry feller. Last we heard from him he was in jail in Juarez, some reverse wetback thing. I don’t know how he managed to fanagle anything out of Aunt Winnie, that woman’s tougher than a old shoe. I’m thinking she’s not dead, she’d never die without telling everbody first.
“I guess arthritis didn’t stop her from slamming the cracker all night long.”
Love that line. And it certainly could make for a Marry Xmas.
You boys nasty.