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This jail cell isn't as uncomfortable as what all those crime dramas make you think it would be. Really, you can barely feel the metal bed frame through this two-inch mattress. And if you turn out the lights, it really makes the place feel more spacious. The gray paint everywhere is pretty calming, a little dull, and you'd think with all of these bitches in here, there'd be an interior decorator, but... forgive me, I'm getting off track.

I'm not a criminal, you know. Well, technically, yes, I suppose I am, but I don't feel like one. She had it coming, the crazy bitch. You know I should have ended it the day I met her. I just should have never even said hello, but she was so beautiful and doe eyed. I was always a sucker for pretty girls. So I took her out, took her in, and married the woman.

Now, I'm a simple man. I like football, beer, cars, books about war. I like barbeque and steak, action movies, and guns. I love my guns. I got my first one from my daddy when I was just a little boy. He was a hunter from the get go and made sure I was too. Out in the fields on early November mornings, oh, I go back...but that's beside the point.

The point is you can't just go marching into my house and try to take these things away. Which is exactly what that woman did. First it was football, she wanted to spend Monday nights watching the home decorating network. I let it slide, that Bob Vila's not too annoying after you get a couple beers in you anyway. And then it was the beer, replaced by spritzers and wine coolers and other drinks that she wanted. I'll admit, they tasted better anyway, but still.

But when it came to the guns, I put my foot down. They were going to stay whether she liked it or not. My pistol, my rifle, you've got to be crazy if you think I'm going to just live without them. She said, "The children, think of the children." And I said, "What children? We don't have kids!"

Which is how she got herself in the predicament that landed me in here. Without the kid argument she was stuck with nothing to try and convince me to get rid of the guns. So you can guess what happened-- that crazy woman dressed up like a deer in November and stood out in the woods.

I was up in my tree stand when I spotted this doe, just barely through my scope. I locked in. I shot. The doe went down, and I went to jail. She thought somehow, I would have known it was her dressed up in a deer suit, and maybe somehow deep down I did. But, she had it coming anyway.

Get your panties out of a bind, I didn't kill her. I've got a lazy eye. I'm not a good shot. The bullet ricocheted off a tree and hit her in the ankle. But the bitch screamed bloody murder.

She stretched the charges, claimed abuse, got me locked up for ten years. Hell all I could think of when the put those cuffs on me and lead me away was, if I would have just shot her when I met her, it'd all be over by now. I'd be out of jail and watching football, drinking Miller High Life and staring at deer heads mounted on my wall, instead of here, in this goddamned jail cell.