Greetings, Your Honor

Hey, my name’s Christopher and yours was Marla. We met 3 days ago at John Barleycorn’s. You took me back to your place and I fucked you a couple times. We didn’t really hit it off, but the thing is, I left my watch (it was a gift from someone special). Maybe you can send it?

I’ve got a P.O. Box: 3455.

Thanks.

For Judge Edith Viscuiso:

Greetings, your Honor. I was yesterday’s case # 112 (I pleaded no contest to two counts of statutory rape and some bullshit charge for the possession of an unregistered firearm[wtf, Judge?]). Anyway, am I crazy, or were you making sex eyes at me? Because I fucking dug it.

–Inmate #00754009143

I guess you know where to find me, right?

Listen, I’m really fucking lonely, so I don’t care who or what you are or where or what you want to do to me; just fucking come do it.

657 Marchmont Drive, San Jose, CA 95126—the door’s unlocked.

(I’ll be half-asleep on the futon, weeping)