Day One: Shit.

Day One again only the next day: Have tried to kill husband twice. Decide against washing dishes as always have cigarette when done. Same for bathroom. Am suddenly thinking this has upside.

Eating dried fruit, apricots, pears, and brown things that look like squished roaches, which remind me of doobie roaches, which remind me of cigarettes. Watch husband light a cigarette; look at him pitifully.

Eat leftover beans from last night – that’ll show him.

Walk by computer and wave occasionally. Can’t sit and write or surf as this has been main smoking area. It’s about four-o’clock now; I could have just one, I could have just one, I could have just one. That’s Mr. Nicotine. He lives with me; ‘he’ could be a chick, but frankly, right now, I don’t frigging care.

Decide to play fantasy game on Playstation. Spend next three hours breeding Chocobos so game hero can save world. World doomed in my opinion.

Day two, morning: Woke up two hours earlier than usual. Great; two extra hours of fencing practice with the RJ Reynolds Company and spawn. Seriously considering finding some hallucinogens as never had desire for nicotine during a really good walk through a wall.

Woke up six times during night to pee because I drank four gallons of water "to assist my system flush poison." Am feeling unusually testy as result of lack of sleep and deep-seated oral fixation fantasies. Decide to either kill or have sex with mail carrier when post arrives. Probably both.

Day 2, afternoon: See husband off to airport for business trip. Clean closets. Nothing new in mail. Did all laundry out of necessity – body of dead mail carrier would not fit in dryer otherwise. Put in extra dryer sheets (Arm and Hammer, biodegradable.) Decide to take walk. Meet neighbor who asks if mail came yet. She is smoking a cigarette. I tell her no out of spite.

Day 3, morning: Go through dead man’s mail bag; keep catalogues for joyous Christmas
shopping. Feed rest down garbage disposal.

Day 3, Afternoon: Call garbage disposal repair.

Day 4: Receive visitor. Police looking for missing mail carrier – received anonymous tip from garbage disposal repair person. Make coffee and offer fat-free cookies and dried fruit. Arrange dried fruit to make smiley faces on plate. Police officer asks if I mind if he smokes. Burst in to tears. Confess.

Day 472: Sentenced to death in murder of Postal Employee. Federal crime.

Day 478: Beaten by seven large women in prison for having no cigarettes to trade. Able to sing better now; make up prison blues songs.

Day 552: Receive divorce papers: husband marrying tobacco heiress. Cell-mate offers to have ex husband whacked. Wants twelve cartons of cigarettes and one pair Doc Marten boots. Decide husband will live as price too steep.

Day 558: Secure two cartons of cigarettes for payment to cell-mate to have defense attorney whacked. Feel better.

Day 691: Served last meal – minister asks if anything wanted at last moments. Think back to how good cigarette after meals used to be. Request one last smoke. Minister reluctant, no smoking in federal building, but sneaks one in. Sit back, relax, smoke.

Ahhhhh. Feel slightly dizzy, giddy, euphoric. Warden enters cell excitedly; Governor issues full pardon due to new Federal "It Takes a Village" crimes statute: allows for defense appeal of insanity by reason of severe nicotine withdrawal.

Day 1: Shit.