Dear Editor:

That Willy weirdo was peeping in our window one night last month. No kidding. What kind of a creep wants to peep at a couple of wrinkly old ladies, anyway? My sister and I weren't even dressed up or nothing. I had just stripped down to my industrial-strength girdle and steel-belted radial Immobilizer(R) bra, and there was doughy flesh pooching out from all that trampoline-fabric underwear. My sister had already changed into a flannel nightgown and fuzzy slippers for the evening. What the hell was that asshole looking at anyway? He looked so freaking scary with that red face of his all smashed up against the glass, and he was breathing hard and it was steaming up our window from the outside. We thought he'd get the hint when we closed the curtains in his face, but then he decided to creep around outside our trailer. So we called the cops. What's that guy's problem anyway? Ain't that his wife living there with him?

Pearline and Earline Maxwell
Space #40

Dear Editor:

Hey, is the coast clear yet? Are the cops gone? Can I come out now? The cops chased me all the way down to the duckpond. I ended up having to bail off to the side, letting my scooter go solo into the duckpond. I'm starting to get all itchy laying here in the weeds, and I'm covered in burrs and foxtails. Plus, what makes the itch sitch worse is I think I might have rolled through some poison oak or poison ivy or poison something in the weeds. I'd really like to be able to go back to my trailer so I can shit, shower and shave. And drink. I really could use a drink right now.

Carl Bailey
Hiding in the weeds by the duckpond until it's safe to slink back to space #1

Dear Editor:

Hey, is it true what I heard about my Willy, that he was peeping at them two women who moved in next door to us? That better not be true, if Willy knows what's good for him.

Ma Feral
Space #38

Dear Editor:

Hey, is it true what I heard about my wife, that she's all shacked up in a fifth-wheel camper with some creepy pervert named Willy? That better not be true, if Willy knows what's good for him.

Pop Feral
Rotting in prison

Dear Editor:

Rudy's one sick twisted dude. I mean, I appreciate being able to squat in his trailer while he was in the pokey, don't get me wrong about that. But when he got that sudden lumpy red ass rash, he actually asked ME to smear some ointment on them flat furry buttcheeks of his. Good thing Eddie lets me crash in his trailer so I don't have to stay at Rudy's place no more. Just being ASKED was traumatic. I'm getting better, though. I don't gag so much now that I don't have to deal with that mangy little speedfreak running around the trailer in his skivvies, begging me to grease his ass for him. Shit. It freaked me out so bad, I think I might have lost my head and spilled my guts to my dad about Ma shacking up with Willy when I visited him in prison last week.

Arliss Feral
Dealing with it in space #62

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