DEAR READER:

Prison sucks.

I can't recall how many times I've wondered how I found myself in such a fix.

Why, when all my machinations ain't fixed on de-visin' a plan for bustin' outta this place. well, that's my reflection time.

I reckon it all begun when I begged my dear mother for a little ol' cabbage patch doll. Don't you know she gave me a stone instead.

She said she reckoned that doll would get me more than my fair shair of licks on the school yard. Young boys can be so cruel, you know.

I spose' that'n there was the beginning of my life of crime, I guess.

I sure did want that happy little doll.

Yours truly, SVEN.