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    My name is Edna Steeph. I was born and raised in Winterbottom, Missouri, where I lived my entire life. That is, until my good-for-nothing, bluefish-for-a-brain son imprisoned me in this God Forsaken place, The Flemington Home for the Aged. I think it was his way of saying, "I hate you Mother!" Rather than rotting away like most of the inmates, I have devoted my here to chronicling the horrors of The Flem (that's what we call it), and the even worse horrors of my miserable life, in this scrapbook. I've entrused it to the care of my aid Charles Mohane, so I doubt that anyone will ever see it. Maybe if he ever stops drinking gin out of cereal bowls. If by some chance you do see it, let me give you two pieces of advice. Don't ever, no matter what, spend any part of your life in Winterbottom, Missouri. My second piece of advice? If by any chance you end up at The Flemington Home for The Aged, bring salt. You will need it for the meatloaf





Harry Prichett 2014

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