THE JOHN'S COMPANY SALINAS, CALIFORNIA
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.
PS Send me a credit application.