Dear Mom,

This will be the last time you hear from me.

Until tomorrow afternoon sometime, that is. When I'm back home in my own little beddy-bye, warm and snuggly under the quilt.

Please don't let Amos have any more turkey. He's already sprouting wattles and a big old feather fan for a tail. I think it comes from gobbling.

And Stilly should be made to wash all the dishes.

I've done my part, completely and fully.

I've added class to the joint just by existing.

So I remain,

Your most humble, yet most favored, progeny,
Rapaire.