Now wolves in the front yard

Well, sure as anything, the Wolf come home and set down in the Mr. Winkles pee-pee spot and drank him what he thought was a bottle of Wolfshine. Little did he know but what was actually in that bottle was city water which causes his nutty buddies to shrivel up into his scrotum and disables his sweatutory glands (most folks call these "pours" because sweat pours outta 'em). He was settin' 'round the house wearing the copper tubed underbritches he got to wear on account of he got no other way to regulate his body temperature, lookin' ridiculous as all hell and in a sour mood to boot and I got tired of the sight of him. I tole him to go outside but he can't walk good in them underbritches so I had Hog and Dragline put him on a cart and roll him out in the front yard by my old Grand National which is temporarily up on blocks for the past seven years on account of I sold the wheelers to pay for an investment opportunity I don't care to discuss.

He set out there a good three four hours without incident but then the boy started squeelin' his head off on account of we put him on an ant hill and they were startin' to chaw on his tender shriveled man bits. Now I am not much in the mood to pay that boy no nevermind so I just put some cotton in my ears and leave him to hollerin'. Well, a day or so goes and constable come up to my door sayin' he's devaluatin' property and asked me to move him 'round back. Now at this point, he can't walk at all because of the ant bites so the boys and me loaded him into my Ford Bronco II, which I call She-Beast, and we drove him 'round back. Now he's settin' out there and no problem to nobody but I don't reckon he'll be in any less of a sour mood until we start feedin' him somethin' other than cat leather and dandelion greens.

Your Friend,
McElroy Boyd

The Wolf run off again!

The Wolf is a disrepectin' summammabitch! He run off after the set to God knows where rather than supravisin' the road crew like asked him to on account of I had to go meet with Drug Dealin' Dan in order to pick the boys up some medical methamphetamines. He headed in a general southerly direction which means he'll probably show up at my estate, Rabies Acres, in due time.

When he gets here, I got some kind of surprise for him. The boy likes to sleep in this one corner of the barn because it kind of smells like the pee-pee of his favorite barn cat, Mr. Winkles, whom we accidentally killed and ate on account of mistakin' it for a rabbit. Well, I'm gonna put a bottle of Wolfshine there for him like there ain't nothin' wrong in the world but instead of Wolfshine in that bottle, there's gonna be city water. Now before you go thinkin' that ain't so bad let me explain somethin': the Wolf has had some experiments done to him by the United States government. If he drinks city water his testicles shrivel up like raisins for a fortnight and he loses the ability to sweat so he has to wear a complex device composed of a series of copper tubes and a small pump underneath his britches in order to maintain his temperature and that is danged uncomfortable not to mention it looks ridiculous. Serves him right!

Your Friend,
McElroy Boyd

Hooo Boy!

These boys can play, I will tell you what! Uncle Snuff and Dragline were so loud I didn't notice Hog was out in the alley pukin' his lungs out (on account of he drank to much Wolfshine and he's the only one of the boys still taking them pills that knocked Snuff out for those few days) until halfway through the set and I had to run out there and set him on his little seat back show him how to bang on the drums. After that  he was thunderous though I think he fell off the seat a few times. The Wolf was nasty! I have never seen a boy holler so much in so short a time. We had to call the ambu-lance afterward to zap him with those electric disks as the boy had went into palpulations due to extreme stress and what not. He was then carried off by some womenfolk and, well, you know the Wolf...

I am just hoping them girls send him back on account we ain't done touring in Chicago just yet and have another show on Sunday at Ronnie's. On account of it being Palm Sunday and all, this is going to be Christian show dedicated to Jesus H. Christ.

Your Friend,
McElroy Boyd

Gettin' the Boys Ready!

As you may well know, Skank Wolf and the Mange are playing at some juke joint called the Mutiny in Chicago this Friday and so that means I had to gather them up and get them to do some rehersallin'. Well, Uncle Snuff is talkin' pretty good now that he's recovered from chewin' up all them pills so I explain to him what he needs to do and leed him over to his guitar amp and put his guitar on him and plugged him in and once he got to playin' the rest of the boys showed up and we hard ourselves a real blast! Yessir, a real low-down, rockin' and rollin' time. Now we just gotta load up this rape party into the Ford Bronco II and bring it on up to Chicago.

Your Friend,
McElroy Boyd

Uncle Snuff Come To!

Well, we got Snuff back up an' kickin' again. While he was out, I been pumping intro-venous sugar solutions into this hole I put in his arm for such a purpose. He wasn't doin' too good but I got to thinkin', this boy is a bit too stout in stature for a dang sugar solution so I replaced what was in the bag with some Karo syrup and he come to in a couple a hours. He's taken a liking to the stuff since then and he's been drinkin' it mixed w/ Wolfshine and chewin' this length of surgical tube I gave him to stop him from eatin' his tongue. Anyways, the boy is a lot better but the sight of him settin' 'round the place in his underwear is gettin' to be a bit much for Dixie Peters. Once he regains his powers of speech, I aim to explain to him that that ain't appropriate 'round a lady. Anyways, I'm sure he'll be right as rain for the show this Friday at the Mutiny.

Your Friend,
McElroy Boyd

The boys is playin' a show!

Yessir! Things are looking up for them since I became their manager. Show is in Chicago, which is one of them towns way up north where people listen to the blues music and I reckon rock and roll is half blues to begin w/ so the boys'll do just fine. Only problem is Uncle Snuff fell asleep after chewin' on some pills that he didn't know what they were and, well, he's still breathin' and I got Hog and Dragline to hitch the mules up to him and flip him over on his belly and I'm sure he'll be just fine in a few days ifin' I can ever figger out how to plug this here into-venous bag into his arm hole.

Anyways, the show is at this at some juke joint called The Mutiny which is at 2428 N Western Ave. and it's on 3/19/2010 which I reckon is Friday--not that it matters to us on account of none of the boys are employable due to their reliance on medical methamphetamine to cure their Attention Defecent Disorder, whatever in hell that is.

Your Friend,
McElroy Boydd

A Trip to See Gary Fallwell

Well, as you fellers probably already know, I am quite a moralistic conundrum. Yes indeed. I have fallen love with McElroy Boydd's wife, Dixie Peters. Well, her real name is Dixie Boyd. I caught her winkin' at me when we was eatin' rabbit chili and my heart went a flutter like one of them things old ladies keep on the back porch that clank in the wind.

Anyways, when I find myself in such a spot like this, I always turn my thoughts to our lord and savior, Jesus H. Christ. And there is one man I know who knows more about Jesus H. Christ than anyone, it's my very good friend, Gary Fallwell. He is one of them preachers on TV that makes a lot of money for knocking people over and making them talk like retards for a few minutes. Well, as you might imagine, I could use someone to push me over in times like these so I headed on over to his house in my Ford Bronco II, the wheelers of which I just aligned so as to stop hitting pedestrians.

So I get down there and I says to Gary Fallwell, "Gary, I got a problem," I says, "I am in love w/ another man's wife and that man is McElroy Boydd." And he says, "Son, that ain't no good. Jesus H. Christ frowns upon philandery." And I just kinda sit there and nod, waiting for him to go on and then he takes a big puff from this glass pipe he's got sittin' in a pile of cigarette butts beside him and his eyes kinda go all beady red and I know the Holy Spirit got a hold of him and he says, "What's this woman's name?" and I tell him Dixie Peters. And he says, "Oh her! Son, you just gotta offer McElroy Boydd a ride for a ride on that one as is writ in the book of Genesis. Trade him your four wheeler ATV and he'll let you hitch a hump on that old mare whenever you want."

You cannot imagine the Christian joy that's in my heart today! Now I am gonna go off to go see McElroy Boydd about trading him an all terrain ve-hicle in exchange for sexual favors from his wife.

Your Friend,
McElroy Boyd