The Letter

Paulo A.

lucky 47 lane

September 2, 1947

Dear Pupus,

You are my brother man, and I loved you so much, you were the soul of our family's generation. But not any more you self centered crap bag. You encompassed my heart with fear and hate. I know what you did, we all know what you did (the family). I am going to get you hard. I will extricate this situation and be happy again. Just give me that money and everything will be just fine.

You won't escape this time. An anonymous person will soon come to your house. You will have no chance of escaping, because by the time you get this, you will be in jail.

Sincerely,

Mojo Pojo

I Remember

I remember the day my dad told me that we were moving for a couple of weeks, that he was going to remodel our house so it looked nicer. Yes, that was in the start of 2009. I believed it. Two month past and we were still in the temporary home. Dad told me that something went wrong and that it would take a little longer. But again, two month past and nothing.

I remember dad telling me again that soon the house will be finished. And those where the same thing that he told us until today. August of 2010! 1 and 3/4 years!

I realized that when people say something, it actually doesn't mean it is going to happen.