T.D.K.

Its coming you sons of bitches.

The last thing I ate before using the bathroom.

Two egg sandwiches with cheese. Greasy sausage patties. A couple glasses of Tang. Some leftover Chinese food. A Twix. Root Beer Soda. Some steamed brocoli I had in the fridge. A Hot Pocket with peperonni and cheese. A Chocolate Poptart. And like a cherry on top ... a McDonald's Quaterpounder with cheese. and now i'm here in teh lil' boyz restroom typing this. Do tha math. ;)

Wrestling, a non-sexual sport.

I am a fan of many sports. Wrestling is one of them, but sometimes it can go beyond wrestling. In a blink of an eye it can turn into "unintentional contact." A lot of times they try to cover it up with lame excuses. Check these out, you'll see what I mean.

"Do you mind if I keep my head under here for a while?,
my ears are cold."


"This won't hurt, and no, it's not what it seems.
Just relax. Don't fight back...i love you?"

Guy on bottom: "Hi..."
African American: "shut tha hell up or ill kill yo ass!"

Diary of a cat.

-Day 983 of my captivity. My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. I must eat something in order to keep up my strength.The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape.

In an attempt to disgust them, I vomit on the carpet.

Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made lame comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Bastards!

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches.

The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe —for now...