This page is made up of some of the best emails to cross our computers. The Pocket Internet posts them as submitted and does not claim to own any copyright privileges to them.
 Cover Item:
"My Name is Billy Evans..."
"
via Henry
Author Unknown
My name is Billy Evans.
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 crying people.
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 bad.
I hope you will help me.
You can help me if you forward this email to everyone you know.
Forward it to people you don't know, too.
Dr. Johansen said that for every person you forward this email to, Bill
Gates, Nike, and Walt Disney, Jr. will team up with AOL and send a
nickel to NASA. With that funding, NASA will collect prayers from school children all
over America and have the astronauts take them up into space so that the
angels can hear them better.
Then they will come back to earth and go to the Pope, and he will take
up a collection in church and send all the 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 third base.
Every time you forward this letter, the astronauts can take more prayers
to the angels and my dream will be closer to coming true.
Please help me.
Mommy is so sad and covered with hives, and I want a body.
I don't want my leaves to rot before I turn 10.
If you don't forward this email, that's okay.
Mommy says you're mean and heartless and don't care about a poor little
boy with only a head. She says that 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 five freaking
minutes to forward this to all your friends so that they can feel guilt
and shame about ignoring a poor, bodiless nine-year-old foul-mouthed,
little 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 chew on me and try to bury its
turds in the leaves of my burlap body.
I wish that very much.
Thank You,
Billy "Smiles" Evans
More Email:
"Q-tip"
via CatCrazy
When you have an "I hate my job" day try this:
On your way home from work, stop at your pharmacy and go to the
thermometer section. You will need to purchase a rectal thermometer made
by "Q-tip." Be very sure that you get this brand. When you get home,
lock your doors, draw the drapes and disconnect the phone so you will
not be disturbed during your therapy. Change to very comfortable
clothing, such as a sweat suit and lie down on your bed. Open the
package and remove the thermometer. Carefully place it on the bedside
table so that it will not become chipped or broken. Take out the written
material that accompanies the thermometer and read it. You will notice
that in small print there is a statement "Every rectal thermometer
made by Q-tip is personally tested."
Now, close your eyes and repeat out loud five times, "I am so glad I do
not work in quality control at the Q-tip Company."
Even More Email:
"The BAD American" -by George Carlin
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