A mother enters her daughter's bedroom and sees a letter on the wall over the bed. With the worst premonition, she reads it, with trembling hands: It is with great regret and sorrow that I'm telling you that I eloped with my new boyfriend. I found real passion and he is so nice, with all his piercings and tattoos¹ and his big motorcycle.

But is not only that Mum, I'm pregnant and Ahmed said that we will be very happy in his trailer in the woods. He wants to have many more children with me and that's one of my dreams. I've learned that marijuana doesn't hurt anyone and we'll be growing it for us and his friends, who are providing us with all the cocaine² and ecstasy³ we may want.

In the meantime, we'll pray for the science to find the AIDS cure, for Ahmed to get better, he deserves it. Don't worry Mom, I'm 15 years old now and I know how to take care of myself. Some day I'll visit for you to know your grandchildren. Your daughter, Judith.

P.S.: Mum, it's not true. I'm at the neighbour's house. I just wanted to show you that there are worse things in life than my report card that's in the desk drawer.