The Wolf is a danged liberal now!

You see a while back, the boy got some fool notion in his head and stoled a stone statuette Bobby Lee from out front the court house with the intent and purpose of settin' him free. Well, not only did it cost me a gallon of store-boughten whusky to get the best lawyer in town, Plessy Fergusun, to spring 'em but it seems he done got to talkin' w/ some radical, liberals from Warshington D.C. in jail for showin' up late to church and they put some danged ridiculous ideas into head about freedom of the speech and what not. Now the boy think he can say any high-fallutin' thing he pleases. He walk up to me yesterday and says, "Yoop, yoop, pooper scoop!" and just leave at that. He says to Dixie Peters, "Skippity lamda do da!" and run off chasin' rabbits again. Just about every word out the boy's mouth at this point is gull-danged, jibbering hogwarsh. I ask him the meaning of all this and he say, "Don't violate my first amendment rights!" Now I don't know what no dang amendment is or what kind of liberal evil is behind it but I say the boy ain't got no rights to be talkin' all funny like he some sort of innillectual from the North.

Anyways, I keep a gentleman's home here on my estate, Rabies Acres, and so naturally I don't allow no liberalism, philanthropy or any other of that Northern nonesuch to go on and so I had to set about punishin' the boy to get him to at least stop lippin' on that cornswaggle he been on about. I lashed him to an old cart wheel I had out by the swamp and he just keep blatherin' on like, "Wick, wack, gunnysack!" and "Flim, flam, icecream man!" And so I says, "Winner, winner, chicken dinner!" and shoved a pocket edition of Webster's Dictionary into his mouth such that he had to eat his own dang, liberal words--which I felt was highly poetical and appropriate to the occasion. I been goin' out there once a day to feed and water him and I ain't settin' him free of the cart wheel until he speaks some dang sense for once.

Your Friend,
McElroy Boyd

The Boys is Healthy Again!

As it turns out, they didn't get no malaria. They just been eatin' some red berries they found out there in the swamp and it turned out what I thought was bug bites form the dread malaria fly wasn't nothin' but a buncha hives and them boys is covered with hives half the time anyways. So I fed 'em up some of that stuff in a bottle that makes you throw up and once I got their guts all good in cleaned out I had 'em each drink a half bottle of good whuskey and they're all speakin' pretty good and walkin' around now.

It's a good thing too. Skank Wolf and the Mange got a show tonight! For some reason that town up North, Chicago, is the only place that'll have 'em so we're driving my Ford Bronco II, which I call She Beast, up there and we're playin' at this joint call Cal's at 400 S Wells St, wherever in hell that is. Hopefully this place'll finally be one w/ a piano so as you can all finally here the full sound of the band w/ yours truly a-ticklin' at the ivories.

Your Friend,
McElroy Boyd

The boys done got the malaria

McElroy Boyd here. Sorry I haven't been keepin' y'all up to date on the comings and goings of Skank Wolf and the Mange but Dixie Peters and I have been busier than bees a-nursin' the boys back to health. You see in the hot summer moths, they took to sleepin' in a little patch of swampland here on my estate, Rabies Acres. I try to make 'em mix in a little bit of tonic water w/ their wolfshine so as to keep 'em protected from the dread malaria fly but it didn't work out too good. You see them boys don't pay no attention to half of what I tell 'em on account of them bein' insubordinate and they also don't understand the more sophisticated medical terminology since they know only enough English words to write rock and roll songs. So the boys go around a wallerin' in the mud and bugs and eatin' the local rabits and sure as your face they done got the malaria. At first I was happy they finally got back to writin' new material but then I realized all that pukin' and howlin' was involuntary and caused by severe sickness of the mind and body. Now I am stuck with four boys who cain't even walk to the outhouse to do their business without help and don't even got enough time on my hands to practice piano.

Your friend,
McElroy Boyd

The boys are playin' a show!

On account of my managin', the boys are playin' yet again in that city up north that goes by the name of Chicago, formerly a marshland until we kicked the Indians out and drained it as is our holy right given unto us by Jesus H. Christ. Hallelujah!

As usual though, one of the boys has got hisself in a world of hurt right before the big show. Hog drank a full pint of 90% isopropyl alcohol which I had purchased in order to clean up some oil stains which I don't care to discuss the origin of. Now he's pukin' up his guts and has gone half blind in one eye and sixty-percent blind in the other. It's okay on account of drums are real big and you don't gotta see too good to play 'em but I wish he'd just stick to Wolfshine and Country Club malt liquor like anyone with any kind of sense would do. That boy always drunk and pukin' up somethin' he just don't normally go blind in the process.

Anyway, the show is this Saturday at Ronny's.

Your Friend,
McElroy Boyd

Skank Wolf Legal Defense Fund

Well, the Wolf finally recoverd from his run in with city water and got back to being his old sweet self again. Guess what the first thing he did is? Well, first thing he did was drink a jar of Wolfshine but after that I mean... The boy went and stoled a stone statuette of Robert E. Lee from out the front of the court house and done got hisself arrested on account of he forgot it was the day time and there was a po-lice man standin' right there.

I asked him him why he done it and he said it is a fine many who stands on his principles. And I asked him what his principles was and he said he don't believe a stone statuette should be cooped up in front of no court house and he aimed to set little stone Robert E. Lee free. I tell the boy he ain't thinkin' straight and then he got all sore and told me to leave but he's the lead singer of the band so we gotta pay a bail of forty-five dollars and raise enough money to pay the best attorney in the county, Plessy Ferguson. He says he's sick of us payin' him in Wolfshine and wants him a gallon of good, store-boughten whusky this time.

Anyways, we are askin' for donations to the Skank Wolf Legal Attorney Defense Fund in order to straiten our financial situation and get back to rockin'.

Your Friend,
McElroy Boyd

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