Editorial: Hide The Cocaine!



It’s the cops! Quick, hide the coke! Hide all of it!

I don’t fucking know how much there is, Jose, at least like 3 ounces. Now shut the fuck up, I got to dictate this editorial just in case I die.


This is gonna be the cutest goddamn editorial ever. I just wanna take you on a brief escape from the toils of your week and give you something that the world just can’t seem to get enough of: cute pictures of kitty cats.

First off let me show you a picture of my cat, Jones. Here kitty…come here Jones…where are you OHMYGOD THE CAT GOT INTO THE COCAINE! NO! JONES! YOU LOOK LIKE FUCKING OZZY!

Shit, the cops are inside! Everyone be cool, man. Just chill out and act normal.

Uh, hi officer. What seems to be the trouble here?

“Son, are you aware of the giant pile of cocaine on your kitchen table?”

Oh, that? I’m holding for a friend. And it’s also totally not cocaine.

“Holy shit, what did you do to that cat?! You’re under arrest!”


Well, my friends were always telling me to try new things. At first I assumed this meant “drugs”, but now I know it means “live in jail”. Jail has been pretty fun so far. Everyone else ‘on the inside’ is super badass – drug dealers, car jackers, drunks, prostitutes, drug dealers, robbers, and even more drug dealers. And most of the guys are minorities – I’ve never felt so cultured! Though I am suspicious as to why the system keeps bringing these guys in.

I’ve spent the past few days doing what most prisoners in movies do – planning “the big one” for when they get out. Me and some of the boys have it all planned out: before I was imprisoned, I buried a bunch of cocaine beneath the big old maple tree at the end of Waybridge road. Once we find it and dig it up, we’ll do it all and then come up with a great heist plan. Or integrate ourselves back into society. But I highly doubt that – the prison system doesn’t teach you shit!

I’m up for parole tomorrow. Hopefully my plan to bribe the warden by teasingly introducing him to my friend Sir Wilfred Laurier, conveniently tucked into the front of my pants. If all goes well, I will be back writing normal editorials next week. If not, I guess I’ll still be in prison and EngSoc can find someone else to write this drivel.