Evan went to his cell
Escorted by the Forp
He sat on the unlevel

Evan had a prominant
Adam’s apple, was skinny
Eyes close together
On the surface he was a
Tea flake

After being asleep only
Three hours, Evan knew
His mission. He was
Going to make the best
hamburgers an inmate
Ever ate

Somehow he got kitchen duty the first day and threw a bunch of household chemicals together out of the mop closet into the meat when Johnny Scorpion was not looking (he was leader of the Oola gang, tattoos on their pinkie toes of atomic explosions- THAT was their sign. Subtle destructors of our soceity doing hard time in the penitentary with the hardest concrete, thickest bars, droolingest Porky Pig looking guards and a French janitor who was super friendly.

“Bonjour! Oh… la frômage. Les miserablé.”

Yes. That is exactly how he said it in stereo.

Well that blue spanky day, Evan blew them all away.

The guards wanted a taste.
Go away, they said.

Go away, said a 698 lb Samoan or Sumo-man or whatter…

The guard said, “Boy… ”

Nikki McClunker took off the fake leg that hid an AK-47

James Dooley took a throwing star out of the bun on his head. An old lady bun. Freaky.

Rupert Jarschwellerp started carving a popsicle stick into a little Poseiden’s trident. Rupert tries.

The guard stepped back.
I’ll never forget what he said. He said, “I miss my Bobo!”. Hardened tattooed criminals began to cry and say bobo, quivering lips, greasy smokey faces inter racially racing to hug one another.


If you are ever incarcerated into a maximum security repenitentary and doomed to die there, remember,
always remember- your bobo. Everybody has a bobo. Take care, enjoy a hamburger if you can.


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