Letter from Quinkley Asylum

I asked for a straight jacket and they gave me a rain coat and the pockets were filled with tomato sauce. Can I get a piece of bread?

That rat ran off with my pencil! How am I going to be able to write down what the tadpole in my shoe is saying without my pencil? They said I could bring one item with me into this Merleforsaken place, so I took Randy, my tadpole. He's been with me through thick and thin. Thick and thin. Thinking thin. Thunking Sid. Sid and Jan. Thickly Sam.

Where was he?

Right. I was writing limericks on the wall a minute ago:

There once was a

That's as far as I've gotten.

It's probably best that I'm here. I remember my father trying to take me to an insane asylum when I was 10. I got out of it by telling him I was president of a unibrow company. He wasn't very smart, but amongst his fellow staplers, he was a genius.

I'll tell you who put me here, it's that ear hole, Glenn. He's had it in for me ever since the olive wars of '09. Carpetsweepercouchfiberrottenmashedpotatokitchen.

Vote Ernie Kellog mayor of ernietown.

What was that?

Dinner is served the chubby guy said, but all I see is a bunch of raccoons running around in the court yard.

The oily one just yelled all you can eat and now the other inmates are running around with knives and forks, chasing the raccoons.

I think I'm going to like it here.


1/7/10 4:15 p.m.




Quinkley