Dear Mommy:

I woke up this morning to the sunshine blazing in my eyes and a smell that I couldn’t identify: a heavy, rust-like smell with a hint of sweetness. Without a second thought, I slithered out of my bed and snaked down the creaky steps to find Benny making pancakes on the stove.

As I turned the corner he said, “Tommy you’re just in time for breakfast!”

I didn’t question your absence because I received a semi-sweet taste of chocolate chip pancakes and a glass of milk to wash down my confusion.

Following a delightful early morning meal, Benny asked me if I wanted to play a game; I complied only because he said that I could choose the game. A simple yet intriguing game, Go Fish, was my game of choice. We began to play, and I thought about you. I knew it would be more fun if you were there to join us in the game, but I accepted Benny’s company and did not continue to wallow in my sorrow.  I became a master of the game. I had three more pairs than Benny, yet this accomplishment was all thanks to you; you taught me how to play my cards wisely to optimize my luck.

It was Benny’s turn. He whispered, “Do you have any dead mothers?”

All the blood in my body rushed to my brain while I slowly whispered the words, “Go fish...”

A grin began to grow across Tommy’s face; it was so wide that I believed the sides of his mouth would surely rip.

“Let me show you!”, he screeched, “It’s a shame you only have one poor mother because you can’t have a pair of only one!”

Benny ushered me up the steps to your bedroom, your resting place. I am sorry that my last memory of you is the smell of your lifeless corpse; you are more than a pawn in Benny’s twisted game to me.

Your dependent child