Dear Uncle Samta 2018

Dear Uncle Samta,

My name is Billie and I am in a secret holding pen called Kansas because my parents are white and drink beer. Five days a week I’m marched out to an in doctor nation camp where we kids are made to sit and face an adult trying to make us employbal instead of enjoybal like we like.

In our cell house I have been tortured with broccoli and cauliflower and forced to eat cooked cows and things my dad drags out of the river when all I really need to grow and be strong is ice cream and chocolate.

The President of the United States eats only McDonald’s. The blond one and the blond one before him. The African man president had to eat the White House lawn because he made his wife mad. The blond one we have now makes his wife mad too but she knows he’ll get a new wife if she makes him mad. 

I asked my dad for a new pair of shoes and he said my genration wasn’t going anywhere so why do I need shoes. I asked my mom for new pants and she said no one could pull their pants up while the market is down but grandpa has pants up to his chin.

So here’s my list so you don’t have to guess.

I wants all children to be with their parents unless the parents wear oxycotton.

I wants all billion-zillionaires to pay taxes both the red ones and the blue.

All kids get bikes. If a kid doesn’t have shoes then get him shoes this year and you can get them a bike next year.

I want all kids with no parents to get at least one. Lots of mans and ladies want a kid but they only want new ones. Don’t leave any kids on the shelf.

I want every family that lost their house to fire or a really big wave- you get them a house. Sometimes family means an old lady with cats or an old man with a dog. 

I wants the bald stupid head that writes this doody to thank his readers and wish them happy holidays.

Don Arrup

Satire1