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  • Issue 22 Fall 2021
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      • Bonnie Severien Fall 2021
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      • Maureen Alsop Fall 2021
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      • Sara Moore Fall 2021
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      • Cin Salach Fall 2021
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      • Hannah Stephens Fall 2021
    • Issue #22 Nonfiction Fall 2021 >
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      • Amy Nicholson Fall 2021
    • Issue #22 Fiction Fall 2021 >
      • Tina Jenkins Bell Fall 2021
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      • Thomas Misuraca Fall 2021
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  • Issue 23 Spring 2022
    • Issue #23 Art Spring 2022 >
      • Jonathan Kvassay Spring 2022
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    • Issue #23 Poetry Spring 2022 >
      • Robin Gow Spring 2022
      • T.D. Walker Spring 2022
      • Jen Schalliol Huang Spring 2022
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      • Carrie McGath Spring 2022
      • Lupita Eyde-Tucker Spring 2022
      • Susan L. Leary Spring 2022
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      • Erin Carlyle Spring 2022
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  • Issue #24 Fall 2022
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      • Millicent Borges Accardi Fall 2022
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      • Whitney Koo Fall 2022
      • W. J. Lofton Fall 2022
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      • Annie Przypyszny Fall 2022
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    • Issue #24 Fiction Fall 2022 >
      • Otis Fuqua Fall 2022
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    • Issue #24 Nonfiction Fall 2022 >
      • Courtney Ludwick Fall 2022
      • Anna Oberg Fall 2022
      • Acadia Currah Fall 2022

David Morris Parson

we hope this letter finds you well

in your post-abortive recovery.

          ​It should be stated at the outset: Your personal health and happiness are our top concern here at the State Bureau of Future American Families. Each day when we arrive in our little office in the Capitol we pinch ourselves and say, “What a privilege it is to care for the citizens of this fine state.” Yes, this includes you, Case #D4221xfZk899Y!

          No doubt about it, an abortion is not a walk in the park. Research from The New England Journal of Medicine, in fact, suggests that it takes up to ninety days for the average female to physically recover, which is why we’ve waited three months from your ‘surgical’ date to send you this delicate correspondence. We acknowledge—and we want to be perfectly clear here—it is not the intent of this letter to proselytize on the politics of abortion. Your opinion of abortion is of no importance to us. For that matter, neither are your religious beliefs concerning the death of your non-born. At the State Bureau of Future American Families our job is never to get in the way of one’s ecumenical affairs, regardless of one’s religious affiliation (even if one’s religion is outside the norm of Protestantism and Catholicism, including but not restricted to Buddhism, Hinduism, Judaism, Taoism, atheism, Islam, Shinto, Rastafari, Hoodoo, LDS, and Wiccan). No, we firmly believe in the separation of church and state. Simply put, Case #D4221xfZk899Y, your choice to abort a precious child is between you and your God.


          We just want our citizenry to be healthy, that’s all. For a healthy citizenry is a productive citizenry—and a productive citizenry works and shops and creates revenue for the state. To be blunt, health produces wealth. Therefore, since research proves that you should be back in the swing of things, it’s time we discuss your fiduciary responsibility to the government.

          What fiduciary responsibility, you ask? We’ll get to that in a moment.

          First, we hope you can fully appreciate our country’s current economic climate. Unless you’ve been living under a rock you no doubt have read something about (and perhaps have been personally affected by) the economic downturn. Consider just a few of our country’s recent financial maladies: the stock market crash, the mortgage crisis, bank failures, bankruptcies, foreclosures, credit card debt, rising gas prices, it’s enough to make your head spin! Add to that: 1) the patriotic burden of conducting multiple wars, as well as the cost attending to our returning wounded veterans; 2) our altruistic assignment to feed the world’s poor (read: Africa); and 3) the humanitarian handouts we’ve given carte blanche to the victims of tsunamis, earthquakes, tornadoes, hurricanes, floods, droughts, fires, famines, mudslides, plagues, genocide, etc. This is the fallout from our country’s “We Are The World” emergency aid approach. We are the cow’s teets upon which the globe feeds.

          If you’re like us here at the State Bureau of Future American Families, ever since the economic meltdown we’ve experienced one big disappointment after another. At home we eat leftovers. We wear last season’s clothes. Our vacations have become staycations. We’ve downsized to basic cable. And now our honorable Governor has mandated wholesale cutbacks across the state. Roads remain unrepaired, post office hours are reduced, state workers are getting furloughed, libraries and schools are closing, and we’re nixing all parades, fireworks, fairs, festivals, holiday lights, ribbon cuttings, concerts in the park, beautification projects, plus we’re shutting off all town fountains and closing all public pools. We’re even auctioning off state artifacts on E-bay. 

          Our Governor is bereft. To reduce our shortfall he’s pondered many solutions, one of which includes slashing the state’s education budget. By his account, this solution affects only children, who are a non-voting block of our population, rather than to raise taxes on their parents, i.e. adults, 100% of the voting population. 

          As brilliant and bold as his idea is it’s not enough to whittle away our mountain of debt. So a special oversight committee has suggested increasing the Vice Tax, which is only meant to affect chain smokers and alcoholics. Still, our honorable Governor, like most hard-working citizens, is tired of paying more for his Pall Malls and Jim Beam. Can you say, “Veto”?

          Galvanized, our lawmakers went back to the drawing board. They brainstormed, thinktanked, retreated, and voila! A new state agency was born: the State Bureau of Future American Families. That’s us! Our mission is to estimate and expedite all future revenue from our citizens. The State Bureau of Future American Families is focused on the future. That’s our tagline. Focused on the future™. 

          Which brings us to you, Case #D4221xfZk899Y.

          You are our future. You and your (supposedly) growing family. See, an economic community relies on positive growth in order to ensure a higher intake of revenue. There is a pact between citizens and the state: citizens pay taxes—the state provides services. You scratch our backs, we scratch yours. All for one.

          This pact is even true for Dead People. One of the final patriotic acts a citizen gets to perform (posthumously) is to pay an Estate Tax based upon one’s accumulated assets. It’s the state’s last opportunity to get what’s coming to them. It’s as if the dead person has graciously given an inheritance to the state so that future generations can reap the rewards.

          But what can be said for an Aborted Fetus? Isn’t an Aborted Fetus just another name for a human being whose life was cut short? That debate has been raging for decades, for sure, with all sides coming to the table with their own set of facts and figures. (We can’t even bring up the subject of Abortion in the House Chamber without fuming clergy and passionate scientists parading to the podium, fists to the skies!) But what is not debatable is this: the citizen who lived a long natural life must pay an Estate Tax, while the Aborted Fetus, to be candid, gets off scot-free.

          Is this fair? Especially when we’re all a day late and a dollar short! Nothing is more definite than death and taxes, right?

          Therefore, we are sending you this bill in the amount of $2,789,574.36.

          Let us explain.

          First of all, $2,789,574.36 is the average amount your Aborted Fetus would’ve spent during his lifetime (with an average life span of 82 years) had he been given the opportunity to be a productive member of society.

          Second, the amount of $2,789,574.36 is not a tax. It is a Lost Income from Family Extermination fee. Or L.I.F.E. fee, for short.

          Third, the amount of $2,789,574.36 has been especially assigned to you, Case #D4221xfZk899Y. Your ex-child’s L.I.F.E. fee is as unique and individual as a human fingerprint! It is based on a complicated cluster of facts and statistics culled from marketing companies and polling corporations and specialists in the field of data trafficking. (We are unapologetically thorough when it comes to information mining, especially when it impacts our state’s economic outlook.)

          It works like this: the L.I.F.E. fee of $2,789,574.36 is based on the fact that your baby was scheduled to be born a White Male. Therefore, your male baby’s lifetime earning potential, based on North American privileges, prejudices, and mores, would’ve been the highest of all ethnic groups. Congratulations!

          The importance of the zip code of the mother’s residence at the time of birth is also significant. Why? Because there’s a clear correlation between the mother’s home environment and the economic status of her children. And since you still live at your parent’s house, that would make their house your house, which technically puts you in the statistical milieu of zip code 75205. (Boy, the average home income in that tony ‘hood is off the charts!)

          While we’re on the subject, it would behoove us not to point out, particularly since the data is staring us right in the face, that you live in one of the lowest abortion zones in the state. Which says boo coos about the pro-life, pro-family, and pro-education environment in which you would’ve brought your child up. Ironically, since you grew up in this same bucolic neighborhood, we scratch our heads and have to ask: where did you go wrong? Perhaps you got in with the wrong crowd, like the one across town in zip code 75216, which has—how’s this for irony—the highest abortion rate in the state! But we digress. 

          In compiling a L.I.F.E. fee we also look to see if the non-born’s Mother graduated college or whether she attempted nothing more than a GED. For you, Case #D4221xfZk899Y, one year at Community College puts your amount slightly above a high school graduate’s, but it’s certainly less than the astronomical sum you’d have been billed had you matriculated at Harvard. In this case, my dear, a mediocre education is to your advantage!

          To be sure, a lot of complicated factors go into determining a L.I.F.E. fee. Take the health of the baby’s mother. Typically speaking, if the mother has a clean bill of health, then the amount of the fee is higher. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that a White Female who eats well, exercises, and abstains from cancer-causing carcinogens (give or take a few mind-altering substances consumed during one’s teenage years) will live longer than an African-American female who couch surfs and has more-than-a-passing-flirtation with Value Meals and Handguns.

          Even the grandparents of your aborted fetus play a part. Heart disease, cataracts, Alzheimer’s, cancer, if it’s hereditary and you can die from it, then that’s going to adversely effect your L.I.F.E. fee. Take your maternal grandparents (of Irish descent) and fraternal grandparents (of German and French stock). Yes, Case #D4221xfZk899Y, your family tree contains its assortment of age-related diseases (diabetes and high blood pressure). But other than a handful of embarrassingly acquired ailments (syphilis, gonorrhea, herpes, scurvy, not to mention your uncle’s HIV+ status—kindly swept under the rug like his homosexuality) nothing significant seems to have been negatively passed down to you. (Concerning the illegitimate son of your slave-owning great-great grandfather: nada is known of the boy’s health. All records, including documents of ownership, were destroyed in a house fire when northern troops scourged the south during the final days of the Civil War. So whether the little tyke was born with pre-existing conditions or birth defects is not known.)

          On the subject of birth defects—we hesitate to mention, but we must, for it’s a sad fact of life—such “born with” features adversely affect one’s earning potential. We’re talking about everything from Down Syndrome to lazy eyes. Like it or not we are a society that rewards beautiful people. A roll of the DNA dice determines whether you drive a Mercedes or take the Short Bus. It’s not fair (you should see some of the challenged folks in our office!) but statistics don’t lie.

          Last but not least, Case #D4221xfZk899Y, we base the L.I.F.E. fee on the projected due date. In your case, the baby was due to arrive March 29th. If you project 82 years from that date, then you get the amount of $2,789,574.36.

          Yes, it is a large number. (It makes one think twice about getting an abortion, no?) Yet when you amortize it over a lifetime, the bill comes out to only $93.20 a day. Peanuts!

          (For a detailed report filled with graphs and charts and reams of data, please request a Future Genealogical Lifetime Assessment Document, which can be found under Forms on our website. The cost is $450.)

          Still, you may be asking yourself, “How can I afford to pay this fee?” While it is not our responsibility to manage your money (budgeting the state’s coffers is hard enough!), we can recommend obvious sources: ask your parents (if they haven’t disowned you); get a loan (assuming your Credit Score is above 740); or get a job. (Perhaps you can reclaim your Assistant Managership at The Gap at Northpark Mall?) Better yet, get the cash from the irresponsible man who got you into this precarious position in the first place (if he hasn’t left town). It’s the least he could do!

          Another question you might have: Do we send a L.I.F.E. fee to all people who die before their expected statistical death? Like the folks who die from car wrecks, suicide, bank robberies, war? True, thousands of citizens die yearly from horrific circumstances. But the answer is NO. The reason for us not pursuing them and their families is based on one simple fact—we don’t have the manpower. At the State Bureau of Future American Families we’re just four people—three office workers and an intern. Trust us, if we had the resources we’d hunt down every dead person and make them pay their fair share. Maybe as the state’s economy improves our Governor will award us more employees and we’ll widen our scope. Until then, Aborted Fetuses are our game.

          Caution: if you’re thinking of committing suicide, whether out of emotional trauma or as a means of getting out of paying the $2,789,574.36, we urge you to call the suicide prevention hotline we’ve set up for women in your circumstance. But keep in mind that the L.I.F.E. fee is connected to you, the carrier of the Aborted Fetus. Meaning, if you jump from a bridge or swallow sleeping pills, you may not have to worry about your life earning potential anymore, but your Aborted Fetus’s L.I.F.E. fee is still assigned to you, and thus gets passed down to your next of kin. The short of it: you and your family can’t get out paying the L.I.F.E. fee any more than you can erase the fact that you got an abortion in the first place. Our Governor likes to think of it as Tough Love.

          The Fee is due upon receipt. We accept cashier’s checks, credit cards (except American Express), and Automatic Withdrawals from W2s until the amount is paid in full. Please indicate your preference of payment on the enclosed form and mail it in. Otherwise, you’ll be hearing from a collection agency, and that would just get ugly.

          Remember, Case #D4221xfZk899Y, The State Bureau of Future American Families is focused on the future. Your future. The state’s future. Even the future that your Aborted Fetus no longer has. You could say we’re honoring your dead baby with this L.I.F.E. fee. Which means, each time you pay it off, month after month, year after year, you are doing so in remembrance of him.

          It gives you a warm fuzzy feeling, doesn’t it?

          Sincerely.



​
--
David Morris Parson

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  • Issue 22 Fall 2021
    • Issue #22 Art Fall 2021 >
      • Bonnie Severien Fall 2021
      • Camilla Taylor Fall 2021
      • Guilherme Bergamini Fall 2021
      • Emanuela Iorga Fall 2021
    • Issue #22 Poetry Fall 2021 >
      • Maureen Alsop Fall 2021
      • Annah Browning Fall 2021
      • Romana Iorga Fall 2021
      • Natalie Hampton Fall 2021
      • Sherine Gilmour Fall 2021
      • Adam Day Fall 2021
      • Amanda Auchter Fall 2021
      • Adam Tavel Fall 2021
      • Sara Moore Fall 2021
      • Karen Rigby Fall 2021
      • Daniel Zhang Fall 2021
      • Erika Lutzner Fall 2021
      • Kindall Fredricks Fall 2021
      • Cin Salach Fall 2021
      • Andrew Zawacki Fall 2021
      • Micah Ruelle Fall 2021
      • Rachel Stempel Fall 2021
      • Haley Wooning Fall 2021
      • Rikki Santer Fall 2021
      • Evy Shen Fall 2021
      • Suzanne Frischkorn Fall 2021
      • Danielle Rose Fall 2021
      • Eric Burgoyne Fall 2021
      • John Cullen Fall 2021
      • Maureen Seaton Fall 2021
      • Hannah Stephens Fall 2021
    • Issue #22 Nonfiction Fall 2021 >
      • Kevin Grauke Fall 2021
      • Courtney Justus Fall 2021
      • Amy Nicholson Fall 2021
    • Issue #22 Fiction Fall 2021 >
      • Tina Jenkins Bell Fall 2021
      • David Obuchowski Fall 2021
      • Thomas Misuraca Fall 2021
      • Aiden Baker Fall 2021
      • Jenny Magnus Fall 2021
  • Issue 23 Spring 2022
    • Issue #23 Art Spring 2022 >
      • Jonathan Kvassay Spring 2022
      • Karyna McGlynn Spring 2022
      • Andrea Kowch Spring 2022
      • Layla Garcia-Torres Spring 2022
    • Issue #23 Poetry Spring 2022 >
      • Robin Gow Spring 2022
      • T.D. Walker Spring 2022
      • Jen Schalliol Huang Spring 2022
      • Yvonne Zipter Spring 2022
      • Carrie McGath Spring 2022
      • Lupita Eyde-Tucker Spring 2022
      • Susan L. Leary Spring 2022
      • Kate Sweeney Spring 2022
      • Rita Mookerjee Spring 2022
      • Erin Carlyle Spring 2022
      • Cori Bratty-Rudd Spring 2022
      • Jen Karetnick Spring 2022
      • Meghan Sterling Spring 2022
      • Lorelei Bacht Spring 2022
      • Michael Passafiume Spring 2022
      • Jeannine Hall Gailey Spring 2022
      • Phil Goldstein Spring 2022
      • Michael Mingo Spring 2022
      • Angie Macri Spring 2022
      • Martha Silano Spring 2022
      • Vismai Rao Spring 2022
      • Anna Laura Reeve Spring 2022
      • Jenny Irish Spring 2022
      • Marek Kulig Spring 2022
      • Jami Macarty Spring 2022
      • Sarah A. Rae Spring 2022
      • Brittney Corrigan Spring 2022
      • Callista Buchen Spring 2022
      • Issam Zineh Spring 2022
      • MICHAEL CHANG Spring 2022
      • henry 7. reneau, jr. Spring 2022
      • Leah Umansky Spring 2022
      • Cody Beck Spring 2022
      • Danyal Kim Spring 2022
      • Rachel DeWoskin Spring 2022
    • Issue #23 Fiction Spring 2022 >
      • Melissa Boberg Spring 2022
    • Issue #23 Nonfiction Spring 2022 >
      • Srinaath Perangur Spring 2022
      • Audrey T. Carroll Spring 2022
  • Issue #24 Fall 2022
    • Issue #24 Art Fall 2022 >
      • Marsha Solomon Fall 2022
      • Edward Lee Fall 2022
      • Harryette Mullen Fall 2022
      • Jezzelle Kellam Fall 2022
      • Irina Greciuhina Fall 2022
      • Natalie Christensen Fall 2022
      • Mark Yale Harris Fall 2022
      • Amy Nelder Fall 2022
      • Bette Ridgeway Fall 2022
      • Ursula Sokolowska Fall 2022
    • Issue #24 Poetry Fall 2022 >
      • William Stobb Fall 2022
      • e Fall 2022
      • Stefanie Kirby Fall 2022
      • Lisa Ampleman Fall 2022
      • Will Cordeiro Fall 2022
      • Jesica Davis Fall 2022
      • Peter O'Donovan Fall 2022
      • Mackenzie Carignan Fall 2022
      • Jason Fraley Fall 2022
      • Barbara Saunier Fall 2022
      • Chad Weeden Fall 2022
      • Nick Rattner Fall 2022
      • Cynthia Schwartzberg Edlow Fall 2022
      • Summer J. Hart Fall 2022
      • Daniel Suá​rez Fall 2022
      • Sara Kearns Fall 2022
      • Millicent Borges Accardi Fall 2022
      • Liz Robbins Fall 2022
      • john compton Fall 2022
      • Esther Sadoff Fall 2022
      • Whitney Koo Fall 2022
      • W. J. Lofton Fall 2022
      • Rachel Reynolds Fall 2022
      • Kimberly Ann Priest Fall 2022
      • Annie Przypyszny Fall 2022
      • Konstantin Kulakov Fall 2022
      • Nellie Cox Fall 2022
      • Jennifer Martelli Fall 2022
      • SM Stubbs Fall 2022
      • Joshua Bird Fall 2022
    • Issue #24 Fiction Fall 2022 >
      • Otis Fuqua Fall 2022
      • Hannah Harlow Fall 2022
      • Natalia Nebel Fall 2022
      • Kate Maxwell Fall 2022
      • Helena Pantsis Fall 2022
    • Issue #24 Nonfiction Fall 2022 >
      • Courtney Ludwick Fall 2022
      • Anna Oberg Fall 2022
      • Acadia Currah Fall 2022