Dear Editor:

My business partner keeled over, and I don't have the foggiest how to cook meth without him. Rudy's the one who told me what to do, and all I remember is a bunch of screaming and that my ass hurt a lot or something like that. Also, if anyone wants to buy a already-rigged-up outdoor meth lab for cheap, I got one for sale.

Oh, and if anyone has seen that dude who volunteered to be our lab rat a couple weeks ago, ask him how that shit turned out. Thanks a bunch.

BT
Barely coherent in space #21

Dear Editor:

I never thought I'd say this, but Tinbox Acres is even weirder now that I'm out than it was back before I got locked up.

Pop Feral
Space #68

Dear Editor:

Beebeebeebee pffffffftht aaaahr-aaaaahr-aaaaaahr eeek-eeeek-oook-oook-aaaah-aaaah doo-dee doo-dah-dum unnnngh hahahahaha BLAM BLAM BLAM ssssssssssss AAAAA-OOOO-GAH mmmph ...

Carl Bailey, psych facility escapee
Laying under his trailer in space #1 after trying that batch of meth Rudy and BT cooked up

Dear Editor:

Has anyone seen my new boyfriend Carl? He didn't up and run off, did he? We was having such a great time. Last I seen of him, he was headed down towards the duckpond on Valentine's Day.

Ma Feral
Sitting about two feet above Carl's head in the living room of space #1

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