HUMOR IN LETTER'S 

THE JOHN'S COMPANY
SALINAS,  CALIFONIA

Dear Sir,

Just received your superhearted letter in regards to the bill
that I owe you. You said you thought the bill could have been
paid a long time ago, and you couldn't understand why it wasn't. 
Well, I will enlighten you.

In 1990 I bought a sawmill on credit, in 1991 an ox team and a 
timber cart, two ponies, a shot gun, a wine tester and a $25 colt
revolver, also two fine razor back hogs. All on that damned 
installment plan.

In 1992 the mill burned down and didn't leave a damned thing, 
one of the ponies died and I loaned the other to a son-of-a-bitch
who starved it to death, and then I joined the church.

In 1993 I purchased three hives of bees, but they started breeding
with tumble bugs, and the honey tasted like shit. In 1994 my father 
died and my brother was lynched for horse stealing. A railroader
knocked up my daughter and I had to pay $300 for a doctor to keep 
the little bastard from becoming a relative of mine. 

In 1995 I burned out and took to drinking. I didn't stop until all
I had left was a waterbury watch and kidney trouble. Then, for 
sometime, all I did was wind my watch and run to piss. The next
year I decided to try again, so I bought a manure spreader, a 
Deering binder and a threshing machine, all on credit. Then came 
a cyclone and blew everything into the next county.

My wife caught the clap from a traveling salesman, my boy wiped 
his ass on a corn cob that had rat poison on it and some bastard
nutted my best bull. In 1997 my boy got the mumps and they went
down on him and the doctor had to castrate him to save his life.
Then later I went fishing and the boat turned over, and I lost
the biggest damn fish I ever saw and two of my boys drowned,
neither being the one who was castrated.

Last year my wife ran way with a heavy hung nigger and left me
a pair of twins for a souvenir. Then I married the hired girl to
keep down the expenses, but I had trouble getting her off. I went 
to the doctor and he advised me to create some excitement about 
the time I thought she was ready. That night I took the shotgun 
to bed with me, and when I thought she was ready I stuck the gun
out the window and fired. My wife shit all over the bed, I ruptured
myself for life and besides all of that, I killed the best damn
milk cow I ever had.

Now, at the present time, if it cost a nickel to shit, I would 
have to vomit. Yet, you say you are going to cause me trouble.
Trying to get money out of me would be like trying to poke butter 
in a wildcat's asshole with a hoot owl, but you are welcome to 
try.

You bastards are so low down you would have to stand flat 
footed to kiss a chigger's ass.



Yours truly,





PS Send me a credit application.