Dear Mr. Banks

Hey Mr. Banks,

My old man says I need to spine up and get a job. Something about the goddamn gravy train coming to a halt. I didn’t know what he meant either. Those train tracks by the river ain’t been used in years. Anywho, do you have any work for me to do this summer? I can clean your pond or scrape gum off of your work boots or something. My old man says I ain’t too bright, or else I’d offer to help you with your taxes or something. He says the only thing a fried turd like me is good for is manual labor. I’ve never read the manual, on account of I can’t read and all, but my Dad would know better than me. He once told me that unless I grew 3 or 4 goddamn inches, I was going to have a pretty rough time working in the mill with him. I’m pretty short for my age on account of I got sick when I was real little.

You’re pretty much my last hope Mr. Banks. My old man says if I don’t come home with a job, he’ll kill me. He will too. He killed our dog Jesse last year because it barked at a squirrel. A squirrel, Mr. Banks. I asked my old man what the hell kind of person kills a dog for barking at a squirrel and he told me a real man is who. He always says stuff like that. A real man is who. I hate my old man, but don’t tell him that. Last time someone told him how much I hated his guts, he walloped me real good. I couldn’t straighten my right leg for a month on account of he gave me a real lickin’ with that lawn chair.

It’s ok if you don’t have any work Mr. Banks, I just figured I’d ask and all. I just want you to know that I can carry bags of horse manure on my shoulders for you. I won’t complain or nothing either. If Mrs. Banks needs help with the groceries or something, I’ll do that too. My old man never used to let me help with the groceries on account of that one time when I yelled at him for kicking Jesse. My old man says whatever I do, it’s gotta be something physically painful so I learn the value of a goddamn dollar. He told me money doesn’t grow on trees, but I already knew that. I ain’t stupid or nothing. He also said if I grew up to be a poof like my cousin Gary he’d beat the tar out of me. O, I just thought of something else I can do too, Mr. Banks. If you have things that are trapped in small places, I can crawl in and get them on account of I’m so small and all. My cousin Gary and I used to crawl under the deck sometimes to get Jesse and hide from my old man when he was on a tear.

Have a good weekend Mr. Banks,
A. T. Piskai, 318 Peanut Street

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