02/12/01

First place I go look for the fucking beagle is on the Palfrey farm, but he’s not there this time. Didn’t see little Milady around neither. Ask Porch Rot how the wife is doing. He says couldn‘t say. Said some young Mexican guy showed up and she ran out to the car and took off with him in a hurry. He said maybe it was her brother. Anyway, Hiram says he hasn’t seen or heard from her since then.

Dumb fuck.

Dog was found later in the housing development down the road--- near the house of that punk kid I’m supposed to stay 1,000 feet away from--- the one I caught in the act not long ago spray painting gang tags up on my silo. Damn dog’s penis is swelled up inside a fluffy white lap dog. They’re stuck together out there on the fancy fucking lawn, one dog pointing East, the other pointing West.

The owner is flipping out on me saying she’s gonna sue me.

Dog rape, she says it is.

Let’s put the recriminations aside for second and help me pull these two apart, I say.

Anyway, I finally get back to the trailer after waiting for the damn dog’s pecker to shrink down and I get this asshole mafia guy stopping in, says he knows someone in the Wallkill Prison who can help protect my son Rocky from getting his skull cracked in, all I have to do is pay him a thousand dollars. I didn’t know what to do. I really don’t have a way to pay that kind of money, and I tell him so. He asks me if I had anything of value to give him instead. I tell him I’m living on pennies a day. Eating oatmeal three times a day. Burning wood in the wood stove to keep from freezing to death. Barely able to keep fuel in the pickup truck and the tractor. The son of a bitch looks me over real good, gives me this menacing look, and then marches back to his swanky mafia car.

Fuck Head.

02/11/01

Stash said he was starting to get cold waiting for me and let himself in the trailer to get warm like Phebe advised him to do if he found I was out getting wood. He said he stopped by the house looking to see if Phebe and I would rent the farm out to him this year to grow hay. He said Phebe told him yes, but then when he asked if I would agree too, she said she didn’t know. Stash said he wanted to plow the place up and seed for horse hay. He said he signed a big supply contract with a hay broker.

Now all I need is the land, says he.

I said , I’ll pass.

Stash chuckles a little---chuckles like I’m being an idiot, says, it’s money!

I’m trying to sell this damn place I say, I don’t need to be tied up with anyone at this point.

Phebe says you’re just saying all that about selling for attention, he says, chuckling again.

I started losing my cool, but at the same time I don’t know if the fucker’s read all my secrets off the computer. I knew I couldn’t exactly go ape shit on his ass for fear of what he could do to me if he knew things. Oh yeah, what else is Miss Phebe saying about me?

You better do something to make things right with her, he says as he gets up to leave or Phebe’s liable to find someone new.

Oh, I forgot to tell you. He continues, your dog squirted out the door on me when I came in and wouldn’t come back for nothing. Sorry ‘bout that.

02/10/01

So as much as I’ve been worrying about leaving this writing out where it can be found--- saying I’m going to keep it all on a disk and keep the disk hid in the shed out back---well, I may have lived up to that plan maybe one day. In truth, I haven’t even been locking my trailer all the time. I get back from the woods this morning and who do I find visiting but Stash Skimington, Phebe‘s boyfriend. The fucker let himself into my trailer! Phebe told him to see me. The computer was out of sleep mode so what the hell does that tell you? You know the fucker was on there. I just have to figure now the fucker has read everything I wrote about the fucker and everyone else. But what am I gonna say to the asshole? I know you read all my shit, let’s not pretend you didn’t? Later I checked the history box for the internet and it didn’t look like he had even gone online. I was hoping he was just checking the weather. So what the hell was he doing on there? He was going through my documents, that’s what. He was reading all this shit. The fucker!

02/09/01

Probation Officer Barbie asked me if I drove in with my tractor and wagon today. I thought she was being sarcastic. Turns out it was a lead in to a personal favor she wanted to ask.

I say, no, the deputies kinda made it known the shit wagon isn’t allowed here anymore.

She seems all disappointed, says, you don’t know anyone who could get rid of a dead deer, do you? It’s been dead in my backyard for a week and I have my kid’s birthday party this weekend.

I say, I got a truck. I’ll take care of it for you. Where you live?

She gives me her address nearby in Hambletonian Park and then says, and if you don’t mind, maybe you could take away the dead koi too.

I get to the house and find the dead doe out back. It’s still got friggin sprigs of yew bush in its mouth. The deer has bullet wounds like it had been shot from above, like from a tree stand or something. . .or from a bedroom window. The koi pond looks like it’d been shot to hell too. Just as I look back at Barbie’s house thinking to myself what kind of psycho did this shit, I see this psycho guy in the upstairs window glaring at me menacingly. I’m not sure if it was a gun in his hand or not. He closed the curtain rather quickly.

Barbie’s got some stuff to work out in her own life it seems.

Good fucking gracious.

02/08/01

So Swami Hard Salami is thoroughly peeved now and starts hitting me from every direction:

Why would you plead guilty to felony possession of stolen property at arraignment? Why didn’t you enter a denial and consult with an attorney? That was very unwise of you! Very, very unwise! And as far as your real estate holding goes, if you are seeking 5 million for your farm, why aren’t you carrying out the subdivisions and engineering needed to have a chance at that price? That price for raw land is completely unreasonable! Ridiculously unreasonable! For that price you need to have a tract that is fully engineered and shovel-ready! You will do nothing but sour yourself to the real estate industry with your antics. I don’t understand your decision making whatsoever! You are behaving very unwisely! Very, very unwisely!

But as much as Swami thinks my price for the farm is ridiculously over-priced, he still wants to stop by and take a look at it. Go figure. For him I think the price will have to be 6 million.