Dear Editor:

I came by looking for Darrell Feral, the younger boy in space #54. I looked all over the place for him. I ended up waiting around for him for hours and hours. He never showed up, and I wanted to stomp his ass flat for ripping me off and screwing my girlfriend.

I gave Darrell $20 and he was supposed to go somewhere and pick me up a rock of crack. My girlfriend decided to ride along and wait in the car while Darrell did business, but neither one of them came back until the next day. My girlfriend showed up in the morning wearing nothing but a pair of Darrell's dirty old skidmarked skivvies and his T-shirt with a picture of a Rottweiler wearing sunglasses screen-printed on the front with "Where Da Bitches?" under the dog.  

I haven't seen hide nor hair of Darrell since. I also never got that rock of crack I sent him out for in the first place, and I'm also out the 20 bucks I gave him for crack. It seems the only crack Darrell scored that night was the one spanning the underside of my girlfriend. If any of you see that thieving fuckaround Darrell Feral, you tell him that I'm gunning for him.

Maddog Monson
Buzzards Trailertopia

Dear Editor:

You're not going to believe what I just saw as I was driving into the trailer park. A half dozen neighbors were standing around on the Dorques' front porch dressed up in Santa suits and getting wasted right outside where anyone could see them. It was like they thought they were cop-proof or something. Jeeeeeeez, one Santa had a needle in his arm, and another one had a straw shoved up his nose. My grandkids had come to visit for the weekend, and they didn't need to see Santa Claus do that.

Dot the crazy cat lady
Space #8

Dear Editor:

Is it just me, or is EVERYONE in this trailer park off their rocker?

Virginia Beadle
Space # 17

Dear Miz Beadle:

No, it's not just you. Pretty much everyone here is off their rocker. So don't worry; you're not the only nutcase in the trailer park.

--Editor

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