copyright © 2007 Jeff Goode


by Jeff Goode

copyright © 2007

Dear Mom and Dad,

I am writing to you because I’ve decided to have an abortion.

I know this must come as a surprise to you, because we haven’t spoken or talked since you threw me out of your house for having sex with that boy — who was NOT a drug dealer like you keep saying, Dad — and we weren’t even having that much sex, thanks to all your nosing around, Mom.

But you were both so attached to the idea of your holy virgin daughter that I was dead to you the minute you caught us doing oral in the garage on top of the washer/dryer. And I still wonder why you were doing laundry at that hour on a weeknight. But I never got to ask because you weren’t really interested in talking about anything that happened that night, or later that week, or any time in the past 6 months since you threw me out and changed the locks.

Which — that was a really nice touch — because not like I wasn’t feeling rejected enough after you threw me out and Danny left me — that was his name, Danny — for some other girl who still HAS a garage. Not that you care.

So now I live in the car you got me for high school graduation — if you can call it a life — livin’ in the street, on the run from my own parents, cuz I’m sure you reported it as stolen the minute I was out of the house, didn’t you, Dad?

Which is the main reason why I’ve decided to go through with this abortion. Because the most adult thing I can do right now is live up to the fact that some people just shouldn’t be parents. You’re living proof of that. If you can’t give a child a loving home, where they can grow up safe and healthy — and especially SAFE. Y’know, like not having to look both ways for traffic before they get out of bed in the morning.

If you can’t protect a child from the world, the way I see it, maybe that child shouldn’t be brought into the world.

I know that’s not what you believe in, Mom, obviously. Cuz that’s the only reason why you had me, even though you and Dad hated each other and you still blame me for being the thing that kept you together.

But that was your choice. And all the rest of us had to live with it.

But now I’m old enough to make my own choices. And you have to live with it.

And I know it’s going to upset you, but I’ve made my decision.

And I’ve decided that the two of you aren’t fit to be parents.

(She takes out a knife or a bottle of pills.)



First performed at No Shame Los Angeles on March 2, 2007.

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