(no subject)
No, they havn't gotten me yet.
I have been in jail the past three days. I got real drunk after that horrible Fillmore ate my parakeet. I had never been drunk before. It was awful. I don't remember exactly what happened. They charged me with battery, and for being drunk in public. I apparently beat the tar out of three men, one of them was the doorman at the bar where I was drinking. I just got out a few hours ago. Violet didn't have the money to bail me out right away. She had to sell some of my mothers silverware first. I'm in big trouble.
When I was in jail a met a black guy named Loyd. He was locked up for smoking pot on a public bus. I got to talking to him about how some strange people had tried to follow me home from the race track (I didn't mention anything about our secrete war). Anyway, he told me he overheard a couple of guys talking while he was shucking oysters at Casimento's. He said they mentioned their boss was wanting to find out who the tall "goony" guy was who won every time he bet on the horses. Loyd also said they were real confused as to why the guy never bet more than twenty dollars at a time. He also told me they ate at Casimento's frequently, and if I "helped him out" he'd point them out to me sometime. He gave me his phone number. I will contact him soon. Sounds like they're real interested in finding out who I am.
I think this is our first break. I will be able to follow these agents to their headquarters, begin logging their movements, and taking photographs of them and the rest of their kind.
More later.
I have been in jail the past three days. I got real drunk after that horrible Fillmore ate my parakeet. I had never been drunk before. It was awful. I don't remember exactly what happened. They charged me with battery, and for being drunk in public. I apparently beat the tar out of three men, one of them was the doorman at the bar where I was drinking. I just got out a few hours ago. Violet didn't have the money to bail me out right away. She had to sell some of my mothers silverware first. I'm in big trouble.
When I was in jail a met a black guy named Loyd. He was locked up for smoking pot on a public bus. I got to talking to him about how some strange people had tried to follow me home from the race track (I didn't mention anything about our secrete war). Anyway, he told me he overheard a couple of guys talking while he was shucking oysters at Casimento's. He said they mentioned their boss was wanting to find out who the tall "goony" guy was who won every time he bet on the horses. Loyd also said they were real confused as to why the guy never bet more than twenty dollars at a time. He also told me they ate at Casimento's frequently, and if I "helped him out" he'd point them out to me sometime. He gave me his phone number. I will contact him soon. Sounds like they're real interested in finding out who I am.
I think this is our first break. I will be able to follow these agents to their headquarters, begin logging their movements, and taking photographs of them and the rest of their kind.
More later.