Dear Mister Ed

Theres some things its best a feller not look into too close.

You mind how I told you I mite be part of pressident O’Bamma’s clan, owed to the fact that my forebares was Black Irish?

Last Sunday I stopped in next door, so’s Wilferd cud show me how his computor can dig up who yer peeple was, near back to the Garden of Edin.

I were’nt dead keen to poke around my own roots, lest some rattly old skeletons fell outta the closet. But I did have a hankerin’ to check under the O’Bamma side of the bed.

It took sevral hours and a sip or two of Wilferd’s spruce beer, but we finely hit pay dirt.

Seems the pressident is related thru his Momma to a bunch that came to the State of Marryland back when the U.S. was a pup. A fambly from France by the name of Cheyney.

Well, when I seen that, my eyes got some buggy. You see Darrol, my own Momma’s folks also hailed from France in the far olden days, before fetchin’ up in PEI.

And get this. Her name useta be Cheyney.

Imajin, maybe I’m in line to be Cozzin Barracks’s man in the Youcon, or some such!

But then we dug deeper, and thats when the bubble bust.

Turns out O’Bamma is also kin to the old vise-pressident, Dead-eye Dick Cheyney.

Soon as we seen that, we stopped huntin’ all together. Like I say, some things is best left alone. I don’t fansy keepin’ company with a feller who don’t shoot strait, from the hip or the lip.

But things ain’t all bad. In fact, I made a discovry this week that cud make me near as rich as you are.

I was out back yankin’ up dead grass to see if I can scratch out a bit of a garden, when up popped seven of the strangest rocks I never seen before.

The size of a growed man’s head, and fulla holes like a big Switz cheese.

One look and by jinkers I was put in mind of the meateor that crashed near Anny Lake about 12 years back.

Five scents will get you a nickel thats where these rocks are from. Or maybe even the moon.

Now Darrol, I happen to know theres collidge folks in Texxas that pay mitey hansome fer that kinda stuff.

So I got Wilferd’s girl, Moon Unit, to take some pitchers as proof. How she done it with a cellulite phone, I’ll never figger.

Anyways, I’m sendin’ one so’s you can see fer yerself.

But you gotta sware to keep it seckret, whilst I wait fer the money to roll in.

Yer pal,

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