Dear Editor:

You'd think since I've been in jail for months and had no access to illegal substances, the first thing I'd do upon my release would be to piss-test for every legitimate job within a 50-mile radius so I wouldn't have to peddle dope to pay my space rent. But no. I was tweeking my fucking brains out within an hour.

DJ the dope dealer
Space #41

Dear Editor:

I am NOT looking forward to Thanksgiving. Agh. The thought of Madge's big fat female kin crashing into each other and everything in our trailer just fills me with dread. That, and Madge's four ugly sisters and one gay cousin hitting on me all day. It just kills my appetite, and I'm expected to eat with all of them. I can't even watch football, because Madge's sisters put the TV on the channel that's airing the Football Hater's Tearjerking Chickflick, then they hide the remote.

Harold
Space #56

Dear Editor:

Last month I seen that standoff situation next door to me at Maddog's place. I thought, oh, well, that's a isolated occurrence. This month the trailer on the other side of mine erupted like a volcano and covered everything in shit. Does crazy stuff like this happen all the time in this trailer park? It just makes me wonder what the hell is gonna happen NEXT.  

Kevroy Gordon
Space #93

Dear Editor:

Goddamn, what a month. A shit volcano erupted under my trailer and now I'm homeless. I've had to sleep in the Haunted Shack at the mall, where I worked as a goblin until Halloween. The shack's still there because it's going to be decorated as Santa's Workshop for the holiday season, thank God. Then I'll be one of Santa's elfs. But the shack's all filled Halloween shit, and the props in there scare the bejabbers out of me every time I get up in the middle of the night to take a piss.

Jingo the retired circus midget
Space #99

HOME