j r w a l s h

Not Yet
	Dear son or daughter, You can be anything in the world. Well, that is misleading. You cannot be born into a royal family. Our (& soon your) lineage is suspect. No one suspects royalty in our blood. Signs of liver damage, mild STDs, perhaps. But we're your parents, your mother & I. You will soon meet her boobs. & they are glorious in my opinion though for different reasons I will never speak to you about. I will never speak to you about lots as long as you survive this time.
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Still Not Yet
	Dearest son or daughter, We got kind of old waiting. Well, that is inexact. We weren't hanging round like moldy fruit, but you can start planning our burials now. What else do you have to do in there? & with zero siblings to argue, you can even choose a future classic: cremation, as snorted by astronauts. Unless we adopt a strategy involving drugs or someone else's kids. Not the fun kind of either, either. Only, only, only child who will feed us to the dogs, who will feed us to the chickens?
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JR WALSH was born in Syracuse, NY and lives in Boise, Idaho. He received his MFA in Creative Writing from Boise State University, where he now teaches English as a Second Language. He is the winner of the 2009 Esquire Fiction Contest. Some of his writing can be found in Alba, Juked, Glass, Caffeine Destiny, The Rumpus, and Out of Stock. He just completed his first full-length play and is also this close to finishing that novel. in issue ten

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