There was a college girl who wrote this letter to her Dad:
Dear Dad,
Sorry I haven’t written sooner. My arm really has been broken. I broke it, and my left leg, when I jumped from the second floor of my dormitory . . . when we had the fire. We were lucky. A young service station attendant saw the blaze and called the Fire Department. They were there in minutes. I was in the hospital for a few days. Paul, the service station attendant, came to see me every day. And because it was taking so long to get our dormitory livable again, I moved in with him. He has been so nice.
I must admit I am expecting a baby, and the doctor said I have something he calls- a “social disease.” But don’t worry, Dad, the shots are working, and we have an abortion clinic nearby. Paul and I plan to get married just as soon as he can get a divorce. His five kids will probably live with us.
I hope things are fine at home. I’m doing fine, and will write more when I get the chance.
Love, Your daughter, Sally
PS None of the above is true. But I did get a “C” in Sociology and flunked Chemistry. I just wanted you to receive the news in its “PROPER PERSPECTIVE.”