by Pappy Enoch, Philanthropist
My enormus fan klub at the Herald will know that I gits me a heap o’ mail thru them-there Internet-tubes.
I done writ about this befo’ but I reckon it are too good to omit when it happens again. In fact, I done got this-hear same letter a year ago from a different dyin’ gal.
I gits me one o’ these-here “please-help-me-cause-I-are-falling-to-pieces-from-cancer-and-my-husband/son/dawg/boyfriend/chikkin-left-me-a-bazillion-bucks-in-Kenya-but-I cain’t-git-it-so-give-me-your-bank-account-please” letters.
Whew. I been a-tryin’ to help these po’ sufferin’ folks for years but they ain’t bit, yet.
Here am the latest attempt to help.
Dear Miz David,
You done writ to me about the horrible-terrible situation what done befell yo’ famberly.
Now I are just a poor, lonesum, woebegone feller who done landed in The Big House (what am called “prison” in the United States) but I done beat that-there rap and am a free man.
I gots me a bank account so’s I reckon I kin help you out sum.
You done said:
our only son died in a ghastly motor accident last year 2010.
I have been battling with both lung cancer and stroke.
Oh my gawd that am awful-terrible. I done lost folks thataway, as well as in explodin’ stills, manglin’ by junkyard dawgs, shootin’ dead by my sister Jezz, alien protology experiments, and Bigfoot-rape.
My late husband deposited the sum of (2.800.000.00 Dollas) Two Million Eight Hundred Thousand Dollas with a Bank here in Cote d’Ivoire and my name as beneficiary of the funds.
After his death I decided not to remarry or get a child outside my matrimonial home.
That am rite smart. I don’t believe in marryin’ at all, if’n I kin help it, or gettin’ no chirren inside o’ no home. The woods am better or behind the smoke-house for knockin’ up sum gal.
According to the doctor, my medical report shows a have very short life sperm due to my health status presently.
Ain’t you a gal? Why in Gawd’s name am you a-talkin’ about sperm? Maybe the cancer done mutated you into sum’fin shemale, but that am beside the point. We needs to talk about that-there 2.8 million.
Maybe I may still have another 1-3 months to live, that I do not know but God can say. That is just my faith as a deteriorating cancer patient.
That are a-startin’ to sound like a country song and I are all ears.
Knowing my health condition I decided to donate the above mentioned funds to an individual Muslim/Christian or any faith
Hoo whee. I are part o’ the First Church o’ the Bleedin’ Heart of Snake-Handlin’ Jesus H. Christ on a Crutch, so I reckons that will do. If’n you wants me to turn Muslim, howsoever, I will do it. Where do I sign up?
The Bible/Qur’an made us to understand that blessed is the hand that giveth.
That am rite original. My Pappy, Pappy-Pappy Enoch, done telled me “boy, that-there hand what taketh are mo’ blessed still.” I done lived by that-there wisdom ever since.
I took this decision because our only son who is suppose to inherit this money and properties is also late
Well, he’ll show up then and don’t worry yo’ poor cancer-eaten heart none. Heck, I are always late.
Ma’am, I plans to watch over that there 2.8 million tighter’n a tick on a cow’s belly till that son o’ yours gits home.
You just git me your bank account number with them 2.8 million in there and I will do the rest. If’n you needs some killin’ done, or just kneecap breakin’ done, my sister Jezz am first-rate muscle for them jobs.
We will be to Coat Divorce or wherever the hell you lives in no time flat, if’n we kin git there by pickup truck.
Yours in God,
Pappy Enoch, Recently Reformed Sinner