Dear Mister Home Depot Man…

04.14.08 10 years ago 14 Comments

Dear Mister Home Depot Man,

Oh man.

Oh shit.

Oh shit damn.

Oh fuoouooouoouck.

I am HIGH! I mean, god to the DAMN! Ain’t no high like a prison high, Mr. Home Depot Man. Shit feel pretty good. There’s not a lot of weed to go around here, so I’ve been spending most of my time smoking crystallized urine, also known as “Canary Diamond”. It’s not bad. Once you get used to the smell, it doesn’t really bother you.

And the longer Pookie leaves his shit on the radiator, the stronger it gets. It also helps if he doesn’t drink any water for, like, a week. That shit browns up real nice. It’s like, got a higher concentration of urea in it. How you like that? And they said I was bad at team chemistry. I’m learnin’ all kinds of chemistry up in this bitch.

Is someone pouring ketchup on me? What’s that smell?

Anyway, the first time I smoked some of this Asshish, I didn’t like it. All it did was make me dizzy and sick. And my fingernails started falling out. But after a couple of tokes, that buzz comes on STRAH-WRONG! For six weeks, I was convinced I was made of cardboard. Then everything I touched turned into bubbles. I like it.

Whoa, look! Bubbles! With little hos in them!

I ain’t gonna lie to you, Mr. Home Depot Man. It’s tough here in prison. I certainly wish I had gone to one of your fine stores before coming here. This cell could use some serious goddamn crown molding. And I KNOW I’m not the only motherfucker here that feels that way. These fixtures are some cheap ass shit.

I have tried to pass the time by reading some of my favorite books. Like this one.

Motherfucker, you wouldn’t believe how crazy some of these hippos get. They don’t give a fuck about nuthin’. Sometimes they come out of the book and we wrestle. Then I end up covered in my own shit. I don’t know how that happens, but it’s solid.

There’s something dripping in here.

I have been making great efforts to be a better person, and have been reflecting on the error of my ways. I know now that it was wrong to fight dogs in Virginia. I should have made them fight over in Cambodia, where both dog fighting and human fighting are totally legal, and encouraged!

I’m also getting much deeper into religion. A man named Kassim here says I can find salvation through a dude named Allah. All I have to do is run a crude hook through a white boy once a week. I tell you what, they don’t like white people here. It’s a real nice change of pace from out there.

There are tadpoles swimming in my eyes.

I know that people have been saying I’m playing football in there, but that is not true. They do have a football team here, but you should see some of the motherfuckers they have! They have QB’s who complete over 40% of their throws! They must be, like, superpros or something. I can’t compete with that shit. And they run designed plays! You gotta study them! I didn’t come to prison to study. That would be like being in school again. What a fuckin’ mightmare that would be!

My skin seems to have developed a graham cracka crust. It’s delicious. I don’t mind helping myself to a little piece of me!

In closing, Mr. Home Depot Man, send money. And pie.


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