Subject: Bankrupt !

Dear Sir:

    I have received your super-heated letter in regard to the bill 
that I owe you.  You stated that the bill should have been paid a long 
time ago and that you don't understand why it wasn't and that you 
could cause me a lot of trouble.  Well, I'll enlighten you a bit - -.

    In 1947 I bought a sawmill on credit and in 1949 I bought an ox 
team, a timber cart, two ponies, a shotgun, a wind tester, a Colt 
revolver and four razorback hogs, all on credit.

    In 1950 the sawmill burned down and didn't leave a damned thing.  
One of the ponies died and the other one I loaned to a son-of-a-bitch 
who starved him to death.  In 1954 my father died and my mother was 
hanged for horse stealing.  A mechanic named Joe knocked up my 
daughter and I had to pay the bill of $88.88 to keep the little 
bastard from becoming a relative of mine.

    In 1961 my son got the mumps and they had to castrate him to save 
his life.  That summer, I went fishing and the boat toppled over and I 
lost the biggest damned catfish I had ever seen and one of my sons 
drowned (not the one that was castrated).  In 1964 my wife ran away 
with some heavy-hung Texan and left me with three small children as a 
souvenir.  I married the hired girl to cut down on income taxes and 
expenses.  I had trouble getting her to reach her climax and the 
doctor said that I should create some excitement just as she was ready 
to come.  That night I took my shotgun to bed with me, and just as she 
was beginning her climax, I pointed the gun out the window and pulled 
the trigger.  I ruptured myself, my wife shit in the bed and I killed 
the best dammed bull I ever owned!

    In 1970 I took to drinking and did not stop until all I had left 
was my Timex watch and kidney trouble.  After that, all I did was wind 
my watch and run to piss.  The next year trouble really set in.  My 
wife caught the clap from the iceman, my son wiped his ass on a corn 
cob that had rat poison on it and someone shot the nuts of my new 
bull.

    In 1973, I decided to go into a business of my own.  I ordered six 
beehives from Sears & Roebuck.  I bought a swarm of bees and a queen 
bee, all on credit.  The queen died, so I bought another one.  She 
turned out to be a whore and started running around with a horsefly.  
The honey started to taste like shit and I couldn't sell it.

    So you can say you could cause me trouble if I didn't pay.  Well, 
if geese were selling for ten cents apiece, I couldn't kiss a 
hummingbird's ass.  Getting money out of me would be as hard as trying 
to poke butter up a wildcat's ass with a red-hot poker ---- but you 
are welcome to try.

                                  Yours truly,