Oh, my faithful minions, my true and ardent followers, your cries have not gone unnoticed, your voices were heard even unto the highest pinnacles of the highest heavens. For the Most High has heard your cries and taken pity on the souls of men. Yay, for just this day the Most High called, the Most High spoke these words:
“Jesus Christ Wire, wake up and write something, for Gods’ sake, there is only so much I can take from your whining-ass followers.”
I spoke: “Oh, Most High, I have heard your call and I will bear this cross, this burden if it be your will.”
“Bob, bob, what do you want me to write it, too? You’re the one who started all this, tell them whatever the fuck you want.”
“I hear you, Lord, I will obey, enough already.”
So, here goes, my faithful ones, in a little piece called, “The High Wire.”
First, for those of you who still recall the pissing and moaning of Mrs. Wire and how I fucked up her life by coming to prison? And how I was so mu;ch better off, thank she… yeah, right. We here it comes, my friends, hold on to your butts.
Mrs. Wire, Barb, has flown the coop, moved on, hit the road as she left me in the dust, while skipping out on me with a thousand dollars I’d swindled the state out of. It works for me, folks. Now I don’t have to think of her sister, I mean, Mrs. Wire, when I masturbate.. whoo hoo! Three day weekend!
Secondly, I don’t think the courteous flush does much, flush all god-damn day and shit will smell like shit.
Next, this whole washing ones hands after the fowl necessity of shitting and pissing. That doesn’t do much for me either. This is how I look at it: I shower, scrub the goods, and go on my merry way, touching this, touching that, scratching this, scratching that. I mean, I have no idea where my hands have been half the time. so, I take these filthy fingers, grab my nice clean junk and get it dirt y. I t seems to me that I should be washing my dick instead of my hands… right?
Further, I think this round bar hotel which we affectionately call the Round-Bar-Hotel (the Maine Correctional Center) is a better place for my being here, for my contributions, my insight, my humor, my guidance and direction and tripping that guy with the walker thingy – the guy no one likes. In all seriousness, folks, this little Hilton on the hill has gotten better since the dearly days, since those glory days, when Ol’ Bob Wire rallied the troops and shit on M.C.C. Frankly I hope this place sinks to the depth of hell on December 21st…
Oh, by the way, if you happen to run into Mrs. Wire, tell her to go fuck herself.