That Damn Credit Plan

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I just received your long superheated letter in regard to the bill I owe you. You said you thought it could have been paid a long time ago. You couldn't see why it wasn't. Well I will enlighten you. In 1907, I bought a sawmill, two ponies, a breech loading shotgun, a Winchester rifle, a colt revolver, and two fine razor-back hogs, all on that damn credit plan.

In 1910, the mill burned down and it left me without a damn thing. One of the ponies died, and I loaned the other to a son-of-a-bitch who starved it to death. So I joined the church.

In 1911, my boy got the mumps, and they went down on him and the doctor had to castrate him to save his life. Then I went fishing. The boat capsized, and I lost the biggest fish I have ever caught and two of my sons drowned, but neither of them was the one with his balls cut out.

In 1912, my father died and my brother was lynched for horse stealing. A railroad man knocked up my daughter, and I had to pay a doctor's bill of $300 to keep the little bastard from being a relative of mine.

In 1915, my wife ran away with a bastard and left me with a pair of twins as souvenirs. Then I married the hired girl to keep down expenses. I had a lot of trouble in getting her to put out, so I went to the doctor, and he advised me to create so excitement about the time she was ready. That night I took the shotgun to bed with me, and just when I thought that she was ready I stuck the gun out of the window and fired. Net results: My wife shit in the bed, I ruptured myself, and I shot the best cow I ever had.

I was burned out in 1931 and therefore took to drinking. I didn't stop until all I had left was a Waterberry watch and kidney trouble. For sometime all I did was wind my watch and run to piss.

The next year I tried again. So I bought a manure spreader, a Deering binder and a thrashing machine . . . all on that damn credit plan. A cyclone came and blew everything into the next county. My wife got VD from a traveling salesman, my boy wiped his ass with a corn cob that had crabs on it, and some bastard denutted my bull.

This still did not discourage me. I bought a swarm of bees to raise some honey to sell. The damn queen bee took up with a tumble bug, and the honey turned out half shit.

Listen brother, trying to get money out of me would be like trying to pour hot lard up a wildcat's ass with a fork. But mister, if you're willing to try, go right ahead.

"Yours for more credit"

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