What’s shakin’, gang. If yer reading this, that means ya made it back to Coney. Right on, guys. It was close back there in the park with the Furies, but like I always say, they shoulda been called the Baseball Fairies instead. Did ya catch my line about the popsicle stick? Made that shit up on the spot!
Man, talk about getting a bum rap. That bitch cop acts like she got the jump on me but I knew she was a pig the whole time. I was just messin’ with her, y’know, seeing how far I could push her buttons. Then I was gonna laugh in her smart face and jet. Like I do, y’know? Then she whips the cuffs out like some kinda magician and here I am.
It stinks in here.
I was thinking though guys, we aint kids anymore. I mean, one of us coulda got seriously hurt that night. Sure we was runnin’ for our lives cause that coked up prick Luther put the frame on us, but maybe we shoulda just turned him into the authorities. Instead of hoofing back to Coney and getting in all of those scraps. I mean, I’m in prison for chrissakes.
Oh, speaking of Cyrus, I heard some guys talking in here and he’s gonna pull through. How bout that? We should send him some flowers though, y’know.
Anyways, all this craziness that’s been going on got me thinkin’. When I get outta here, I’m gonna lay low for a while and try to get my shit together. My folks have a place up in the Hamptons and I’m gonna go there to decompress. I been taking some classes here in the pen and they got me really into this Dostoevsky cat. Ya ever heard of him? Wild shit, man. I might just kick back and read him for a while, maybe try writing my own bullshit.
I’ll come by Coney and give you guys back my vest for now. Don’t go ripping my patch off just yet though, ya dickheads. I’ll be back…ON MY BOOK TOUR. Ha, just fucking with ya.
PS: give Cowboy the finger for me, alright?