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THE JOHN'S COMPANY
SALINAS, CALIFORNIA



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 din'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.