They gave me four years for what I did to the lawn flamingo.

Michael, my cellmate, left a mechanical pencil he smuggled in underneath his pillow. I gave him a vasectomy with it and called the guards over, then used it to impale one of the guard's carotid arteries. The other guard was too distracted by this to prevent me from fleeing, and before he could give chase, slipped on the forming blood pool left by a twitching, sobbing Michael by the cell entrance. By then I was already outside the block, made a mad dash for the fence, and climbed hallway up it. then I used my inmate shirt to hook over the barbed wire, allowing me to grab onto it with minimal injury, and climb down.

I've never ran so fast in my life. There weren't any guards on the eastern side of the penitentiary, at least none that I ran into, and I was able to bolt-sprint through the main visitor's centre and out onto the streets within. I write this from a local Starbucks, using a phone I swiped from some bloke wearing a skirt. He said something about being "phobic", but I'm not afraid of anything anymore after the nightmares I've had about them. That woman, and my best friend in the world. The staff are trying to get me to leave, but they don't seem to be persistent enough to stand up to my "scalding hot coffee" style moves.

Once I figure out where I am, I'm going in a straight line to Wisconsin. I don't care how many people try to stop me. The guards couldn't. The Starbucks employees couldn't. The guy whose Tesla was parked outside Macy's, which I am now driving, certainly can't with that many holes in his head. And you can't either, Karen. I will have my dog back.

I'm coming for you.

I'm coming for Gerald.

You'd think somebody calling themselves a "judge" would be able to properly conceive and read a scenario fairly and concisely, but the fat, shortcrust-pastry looking old ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ that presided over the case clearly sat on a few people in order to get where he was. The decrepit old ♥♥♥♥ spewed on and on about meaningless nonsense like "defendant was found to have broken the terms of the proceedings by attempting to steal back a pet" and "consistent and egregiously offensive harassment" and other completely arbitrary, subjective garbage. Then he showed the court CCTV footage of me knocking over Karen's lawn flamingos in my Ford Fiesta, claiming it showed a "complete lack of responsibility and malicious intent." When I rightfully protested at this injustice, they dragged me out of the courtroom after a couple of my knuckles accidentally brushed against Karen's stupid ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ ♥♥♥♥♥ mouth.

After that little hiccup, the obviously bribed and, if I may offer my opinion, frankly ugly-looking jury extended my "restraining" order, and told me they would press charges if I ever went near Gerald, our toupee-wearing Toy Poodle. They can ♥♥♥♥ right off, Gerald is mine. He's waiting for me and I know it. I will find a way past those ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ lawn guard flamingos and into that piss-colored art deco house and free Gerald from his nightmarish captivity, and then everyone will see him and I were meant to be together. I just hope I can stop myself from ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ in the mailbox like last time.

Gerald, our bald dog, is going to be taken away by Karen, that filthy ♥♥♥♥♥. I am going to do everything in my power to get my beloved hair impaired pooch returned to me, the rightful owner and enjoyer of bald dogs.