My name is Billy Evans. I am a very sick little boy. My
mother is typing this for me because I can't. She is
crying. The reason she is so sad is because I'm so sick.
I was born without a body. It doesn't hurt, except when I
try to breathe. The doctors gave me an artificial body. It
is a burlap bag filled with leaves. The doctors said that
was the best they could do on account of us having no money
or insurance. I would like to have a body transplant but we
need more money. Mommy doesn't work because she said nobody
hires crying people. I said, "Don't cry Mommy," and she
hugged my burlap bag. Mommy always gives me hugs even
though she's allergic to burlap and it makes her sneeze and
chafes her real bad. I hope you will help me.
You can help me if you forward this email to everyone you
know. Forward it to people you don't know, too. Dr.
Johansen said that for every person you forward this email
to, Bill Gates will team with up with AOL and send a nickel
to NASA. With that funding, NASA will collect prayers from
school children all over America and have the astronauts
take them up into space so that the angels can hear them
better. Then they will come back to earth and go to the
Pope and he will take up a collection in church and send all
the money to the doctors. The doctors could help me get
better then. Maybe one day I will be able to play
baseball. Right now I can only be third base.
Every time you forward this letter, the astronauts can take
more prayers to the angels and my dream will be closer to
coming true.
Please help me. Mommy is so sad and I want a body. I don't
want my leaves to rot before I turn 10. If you don't
forward this email, that's okay with me. But Mommy says
you're a mean and heartless bastard who doesn't care about a
poor little boy with only a head. She says that if you
don't stew in the raw pit of your own guilt-ridden stomach,
she hopes you die a long slow horrible death and then burn
forever in hell.
What kind of cruel person are you that you can't take five
freakin' minutes to forward this to all your friends so that
they can feel guilt and shame about ignoring a poor,
bodiless nine-year-old boy?
Please help me. I try to be happy but it's hard. I wish I
had a kitty. I wish I could hold a kitty. I wish I could
hold a kitty that wouldn't chew on me and try to bury its
turds in the leaves of my burlap body. I wish that very
much.
Thank you,
Billy "Smiley" Evans
GOTYA!
Mav
