My suspicious friend in the cell just the right of mine has turned out to be a rather interesting and, in an ‘shit-starting-sadistic-hound-dog’ way, entertaining as well. I’d kill him without a second thought if this wall were not between us, but since my days lack any kind art or sophistication, my shadowy friend has taken it upon himself to fill the airways (my cell) with his fine singing. The funny thing is he actually has a good singing voice. I’m actually not sure if this is funny, I guess it’s funny in the way it makes his rhymes more disturbing and demented then if he were to just sound like he’s spent his life gurgling shit like the rest of us. Either way, I’ve decided to keep a record of them, as I get sick of reading my own dull, druggy scrawl.

Skinned Smells So Good (I’ve titled these, for my own amusement)

Skinned my O’Hara lady friend,
Pluck’d her so pretty she sang like a hen.
Strung her out’d into a hat,
Stretched her ‘til her O’Hara arms went – snap!
Was such a fine ole lady bird,
Smellin’ of dough and milky curd –
Sucked that ditty ’til she went dry!
Now I’ve gone split that pelt an’ toss O’Hara to that cooker,
Fry her up and have my dinner!

Mama Told Me “Don’t Be Choosy” (This is one of Jack’s favorites)

I like ‘em tall, I like ‘em ‘round!
I like ‘em hung, I like ‘em bound.
I like ‘em squeaky, I like ‘em pink,
I like ‘em wriggly, squirming, worming, screaming down the sink!
I like ‘em rich, I like ‘em poor,
I like ‘em middleclass and writhen on the floor –
On the door, on the counter,
String ‘em up and watch ‘em flounder!
Floppy, fleshy, skin an’ bones!
Rock that babe! Watch ’em groan an’ moan!
Knives, pliers, pluckers, saws and hooks,
Pin, chain, whip, boil and cook!
Take what ya can get – I ain’t stingy!
Respect to my mama, told me,
“Don’t be choosy!”

I think I’ll save the others for another time.

Rov