Tag Archives: wife

“The High Wire.” – Bob Wire – M.C.C.

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.

Bob Wire

Advertisements
Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Dear Barb, my Wife

Being that I seem always to be on the market for a future ex-Mrs. Wire, I thought I would share with the world hte contents of a letter. This letter would be the letter I would love to send to the Mrs., show she could fuckin’ understand that I have nothing to worry about because “I have a place to live and three meals a day”! Hello!

Dear Barb –

I must admit I was a bit taken back by that six page scream fest you called a letter. I am so fucking sorry that I did not understand the extent of the misery that is your life in the free world. Upon considerable reflection I was out of fucking place to suggest that you have a lot of positive things happening in your life! I should have known that your high paying job could not be close to as rewarding as a job here for sixty cents an hour. What was I ever thinking when I suggested you had a pretty good car? You are right; walking in the driving rain or snow without weather gear has to be better than driving. Stupid me! Again, I had no fucking clue our nice little apartment is so bad now. Dorm living with smelly old men as to be so much Better. You know, it must be awful to have all that money to blow on drugs, booze & smokes, whenever you want. I never should have complained about the meds I get even though they don’t come close to touching my pain. It has to be a struggle for you to be able to order out food night after night. You are right; I should be happy to pay up to 16hrs of my pay to get a decent meal from Commissary. Well, Babe, I should end it here so I can lock my self down so some ass can count me. It must be difficult for you to self-impose when you come & go!

– Love, Bob (the Husband you no longer want anything to do with)


– Bob Wire
MDOC# not provided

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
%d bloggers like this: