OCTOBER 1, 2003
My name is Billy Evans. I am 9 years old. I am a very sick little boy.
My mother is typing this for me, because I can't. She is crying. The
reason she is so sad is because I'm so sick.
I was born without a body.
It doesn't hurt, except when I try to breathe.
The doctors gave me an artificial body. It is a burlap bag filled with
leaves. The doctors said that was the best they could do on account of
us having no money or insurance.
I would like to have a body transplant,
but we need more money.
Mommy doesn't work because she said nobody hires people who cry all
the time. I said, "don't cry, Mommy" and
she hugged my burlap bag. Mommy always gives me hugs, even though
she's allergic to burlap and it makes her sneeze and chafes her real
I hope you will help me. You can help me if you forward this e-mail to
everyone you know. Forward it to people you don't know, too. Dr.
Johanssen said that for every person you forward this e-mail to, Bill
Gates and AOL will send a nickel to NASA. With all those nickels, NASA
will collect prayers from school children all over America and have
the astronauts take them up into space so the angels can hear them
Then, the astronauts will come back to Earth and go to the Pope and he
will take up a collection in church and send all that money to the
doctors. The doctors could help me get better then.
Maybe one day I will be able to play baseball. Right now, I can only
be 3rd base. Every time you forward this letter, the astronauts can
take more prayers to the angels and my dream will be closer to coming
Please help me. Mommy is so sad and I want a body. I don't want my
leaves to rot before I turn 10.
If you don't forward this e-mail, that's OK.
Mommy says you're a mean, heartless bastard who doesn't care about a
poor little boy with only a head. She says if you don't stew in the
raw pit of your own guilt-ridden stomach, she hopes you die a long,
slow horrible death and then burn forever in Hell. What kind of cruel
person are you that you can't take 5 friggin' minutes to forward this
to all your friends so they can feel guilt and shame about ignoring a
poor, bodyless 9 year-old boy?
Please help me.
I try to be happy, but it's hard.
I wish I had a kitty. I wish I could hold a kitty. I wish I could hold
a kitty that wouldn't try to bury its turds in the leaves of my burlap
I wish that very much.
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