I sure hope you're getting my letters. I don't mind if you don't have any gold yet, but please write back, because things are getting mighty strange around here and I don't know what to do.
First of all, Mama sold off everything valuable in the house so she can help Arthur fix that mirror of his. She said the money won't matter once we get to the future, being as how we can just bury a big box of money now and then dig it up in the future and be rich. I told her we ain't got any money to bury because she gave it all to Arthur, and anyway a future person would probably just dig it up and steal it before we got it. She said I was just stubborn like my daddy. Well, maybe I am.
And tragedy has befallen Little Uncle Jack, too. Somehow it seems as if he lost his arm. I brought some water to Big Uncle Jack in his cabin yesterday, and when I got in there I discovered that Little Uncle Jack was cowering at Big Uncle Jack's feet, and he was missing his left arm. It was clean cut off to the shoulder. Big Uncle Jack just looked at me and said "soon you will believe, Jesse," but to tell you the truth I didn't know what he meant. His face and mouth were covered with blood, but I hesitate to draw any conclusions about what might have happened in there. I figure I'll leave those two alone and let them sort this thing out on their own.
I thought of another thing, too: if we bury a box of money, what good will it do us in the future anyhow? It will be the same amount of money it always was, so we're no better off.
I hope I can join you out in California soon. The situation out here is getting pretty difficult to manage, and I'm feeling the absence of you and Pa more than ever.
I feel like maybe something untoward is going on out at Big Uncle Jack's cabin. He's still in that cot on account of his snakebite, so I've been regularly bringing him water and helping him with the fire, but lately I haven't enjoyed it much. After I wrote you about Little Uncle Jack and his missing arm, I went back to the cabin and Little Uncle Jack had both his arms again. The arm that was missing before was back again, real flushed and pink, and he had no sleeve over it. I was pretty surprised to see that, and I think Big Uncle Jack knew it. He looked me in the eye and said "behold, Jesse," and then he reached under his cot and he pulled out a rotten old gnawed-up human arm. Then he said to me, "I have the power to do this, Jesse." He laughed and laughed. I couldn't quite piece together what exactly he'd done, but I got a pretty well-formed hunch that it wasn't something agreeable to a Christian.
Little Uncle Jack seems less terrified lately. I knew the doctors said he was always going to be terrified on account of his tiny head, but a calm seems to overtaken him now. I don't know why that should worry me so.
Arthur hasn't been back in a while, not since Mama gave him all the money. She keeps making excuses for him. She says maybe he went to the future to bring back some money, and I told her she was being too damn stupid to see that he was just shining her on. She said it wasn't any stupider than me believing you'd send back gold, but I don't think that's fair.
The tale shall continue at a later date...
Sometimes I dream that I'm sitting in the back of the defunct Weinermobile as it careens driverless down the highway. At first I thought this was symbolic of the powerlessness I feel in life, but then I realized it's actually the Weinermobile's dream of being able to drive again.
Three years ago, when we were burying my uncle, Cleaver and some gross lady dog (Solstice???) showed up at the cemetery and starting going at it really loudly. It ruined everything and we had to have a "re-do" the next day and it cost a fortune. I've hated him ever since for that.
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