OK, I’m out of the joint, and the judge done made me write an apology letter to everybody as part of my probation. The nephews told me to post everything I write here on the interweb pages, so here’s the letter. I ain’t heard from the judge about it, but it’s an apology letter, and that’s all I’m legally required to do.
“Dear folks that I wronged,
I’m real sorry. I got into some fortified wine that some fella brought in from Detroit, and any time I get to drinking that stuff I end up bein’ chased around by a bunch of angry folks and the police take me to jail. I ain’t gonna drink it no more, and if that fella shows up with another bottle of it I’m gonna beat his ass like a misbehavin’ cabin boy.
In the order in which I offended folks throughout the evening -
To the lady who was walking by as I left the house after drinking the bottle of high test: I’m real sorry I told you that you were pretty and asked you if you wanted to go see my favorite fuck spot in the park across the way. That was rude of me. I should have said “love nest”.
To the lady’s husband: I didn’t see you there buddy. Sorry about that. I shouldn’t have said that kind of stuff to your wife in front of you. When you got in my face about it I probably shouldn’t have poked you in your eye or kicked you in the knee or hit you with that shovel. My reaction was bit extreme, though you were kind of being a dick.
To Joe the bartender at the Union Bar on 9th street: I’m sorry I came into your place drunk, pissed in the garbage can, took a dump in the urinal, and wiped my ass on the roll of hand towels. I often relieve myself in unacceptable places when I’m that drunk, and I know I shouldn’t. I’m also sorry I swung that shovel at you when you tried to talk to me about where I was moving my bowels. I should have been more open to that discussion and I should not have been carrying around a shovel anyhow I suppose. I’m glad nobody was hurt too bad.
To Tom Moorehouse who owns the Union Bar: I still don’t remember starting no fires, but folks tell me I done it, so I’m sorry. I’m sure the insurance money was good, and the new bar looks a lot better than the old one. I also don’t know why I got charged with breaking a window in a place that burned to the ground that same night anyway. It’s not like anyone had to fix it or buy a new one.
To the folks in Lafayette Park that night: I know I was cussing up a storm and I probably should have been so loud or hollerin such awful things, but that park ain’t known for it’s peace and quiet or nice company. Maybe you folks should take your kids to fucking Chuck E Cheese instead of a public park full of bums and crazy drunkards yelling foul things. You won’t see my ass at Chuck E Cheese ever again, so it’s much better for your kids.
To the folks at Chuck E Cheese: I’m real sorry I came into your establishment all liquored up and pissed off. I know you folks serve beer in pitchers there and I just thought a few beers might help me get that wine out of my system. I know drinking ain’t usually the best way to get sober, but I test that theory once in awhile to make sure. I’m sorry I threw a stool at the fella that told me I was too drunk, and I’m sorry I bit that big fella who came to escort me out, but he shouldn’t have put his hands on me.
And I’m real real sorry I kicked and spat at that manager with the big forearms, because he beat the almighty livin’ hell out of me. I ain’t never been punched in the balls that hard or that many times, and I sure as hell would not have guessed that he was dragging me up them stairs just to throw me back down them. That man has a serious anger management problem and you may want to get him some classes or something. You definitely won’t see me around no more.
To the Police Officers who arrested me that night: I apologize for all the things I said about your wives and mothers. I wouldn’t do them things to any woman, and especially not one whose child or husband was a policeman. I’m sure that the women in your life have never done any of those things, not with me or any of them other people I said were involved. I do really wish I had not pissed through the screen on to the back of that officer’s head in the police car. I soiled a nice police hat and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ought to behave that way, but I was having a rough night after that fella at Chuck E Cheese busted my nuggets and tossed me down them stairs all them times.
Seven months in county jail will humble a fellow a little bit and I’m takin’ it easy these days. I’m only drinking beer for a few weeks until I get things figured out, and I ain’t gonna hit nobody unless they’re really asking for it. And I sure as hell ain’t even walking down that block on 8th street where the Chuck E Cheese is.