Well, OK, I did commit it. But how was I supposed to know the elderly were still people in the eyes of the law? It wasn't like there was a lot of forced transvestism anyway...
The prison isn't too bad: 4 walls AND a ceiling! I see why right-wing nuts are complaining, it's like living in a palace. Except, you know, there's no freedom. And a man called Pete won't let me have a go on the pool table.
"Go on, make me." He says, "I've killed 14 people"
I'm not scared. I've killed more people than that selling timeshares. Max sent me a big cake, all covered with pink icing and little flower things. Normally, I don't really care for gender-defined foodstuffs - I've always felt a man can eat what he likes, as long as it isn't a baby - but right now, I feel he could have sent something more manly, to boost my image a little. You know, some roadkill wrapped in Neo-Nazi newsletters, perhaps.
He sent a note the next day, apologising for forgetting to hide a file in the cake. He said he gave it to the guards to deliver instead. Remarkably, they brought it straight to me. Things are looking up: I've filed my nails into sharp points, and started the long process of digging my way out of jail.
It would probably be easier if I wasn't on the fourth floor...
1 comment:
Oh my gosh! Paul, you are so funny. I think I just pulled a tendon in my neck...wait! Do necks even have tendons?
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