This is an excerpt from my book "My Friend W" published by Arriviste Press and available at Chapters stores and on-line through Chapters and Amazon:
Dear Mom and Dad,
Well, summer vacation is over and I’m back at school in Washington. Everyone said third year would be hard and boy, they weren’t kidding.
I’ve got a really heavy load this semester including courses in Deficit Spending and International Relations. I sure wish now that I’d paid more attention to things like math and geography when I was in high school.
Mom, could you send me a care package? It’s really hard to get good ribs and pork rinds here. And I sure would love some nice homemade chili.
Dad, I’ve got myself in a bit of trouble. It’s not drugs or alcohol like in high school. And it’s not a girl or anything like that.
You remember my friends Dick, Donny and Paul? I think Dick and Donny used to work for you a long time ago.
Anyway, Dick, Donny and Paul kind of tricked me into taking this road trip to the Middle East. I know. I know. You told me a million times to stay out of there.
But they made it sound so fun and exciting. And they said they could show me how to avoid all the mistakes you made when you went there in 1991.
Boy, I sure wish I hadn’t listened to those guys now. They told me there were weapons of mass destruction and terrorist links and all kinds of crazy things. Well, you guessed it; there weren’t.
But worst of all, they told me that everyone would be happy to see us and that it would be easy to get out. So far, it’s anything but.
In fact, that’s why I’m writing. It looks like the costs for that road trip are going to be a little more than I thought. Plus, of course, there are all the expenses for tuition, textbooks and room and board.
Anyway, when you add it all up it comes to $87 billion. Yes, Dad, I know. I already got $65 billion last spring and you’re probably saying to yourself: "Where did that all go?"
To be honest, Dad, I’m not really sure. Some of it went to the road trip and some went for a new home security system for the dorm. And there was a big party here the other night and I think I may have given out a lot of tax cuts. I just don’t remember.
I know you’re probably angry and disappointed. But I promise that if you send me the money this one last time, I won’t ever ask again. And I’ll stop telling everyone you screwed up in 1991. Now I know better.
Your loving son,