Hey guys. My name’s Socks. I’m normally not the letter-writing type. I’m really not. I just want to keep to myself and go about my days with no one bothering me. I don’t need any attention or any special favors, like Flip Murray’s turtle does. But I had to write this letter. It might be the last letter I ever get to write. I hope I have the strength to finish it.
God, am I starving. I haven’t eaten in a month and a half. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I can barely move, and soon, my organs are going to start to fail. The situation is bleak. It is hopeless in here. I feel like Anne Frank, writing letters from her attic.
I’m so so hungry. I don’t need any T-Bonz, or Pup-Peroni, or Milk-Bones, nothing like that. I don’t even need Alpo or something out of a 99-cent, 50-pound bag of dog food. I’ll take anything. I tried to eat my own paw once. Oh, I’m so hungry. It hurts so bad.
How did I get like this? You’d have to ask… that guy who owns me. I don’t know his name. We’ve never actually met. I see him walking around sometimes, but that’s it. I don’t know that he knows my name, either. When I see him, I show him my exposed ribs, lay on the ground and wail in pain, and all he does is go, “QB, represent!” and keep walking. I wish I knew what that meant.
I mean, he acts like he likes me. It’s just that there’s something sort of wrong with him. Most people see a dog as skinny as me and think, “That dog should probably eat something.” Not this guy. He sees me and thinks, “That dog should probably I WISH I WORKED AT BEST BUY twinkies are delicious and I wonder what they’re made of I WILL RIP YOUR FACE OFF we play the Clippers tonight and Maggette is an easy check YEAH, THAT’S RIGHT, TAKE IT OFF, GIRL.” Something I like that. I don’t know.
It’s just like there’s something missing upstairs. He’s not mean to me, he just doesn’t understand certain things. For example, when I stop whining after one of his friends blows weed smoke in my face, it doesn’t mean I’m happy and content. It means that because I weigh 41 pounds, I get really high, really quickly, and my face doesn’t move anymore. Really, guys, I’m not “higher than a giraffe’s ass and feelin’ no pain.” I’m still in a lot of pain, I just happen to be hallucinating, too.
Really, all I know about the guy is that he drives a big Escalade, he likes to do nude push-ups, and everyone else in the neighborhood is terrified of him.
But I’m not… I think he’s probably a nice guy, except for the not-feeding-me thing. And I swear, I’d love him forever if he just fed me… you know, it doesn’t even have to be every day. Just two or three times a week. Please, God. Please let that man feed me. I’d give anything for just one bite of my owner’s favorite meal, Cristal and Slim Jims.
And I’ve heard the stories that he tried to feed me, but the American Bulldog stole all the food. That’s not true. It is true that the bulldog has eaten and I haven’t, but the bulldog doesn’t get fed either. Right now, he’s in the back, eating Rick Adelman. He kills people and eats them, and he never shares. He’s killed a lot of people… two mailmen, a handful of girl scouts (he did give me a few Thin Mints), a Jehovah’s witness, a cop, a few naked girls covered in glitter, and Bison Dele. Bison Dele was huge. The bulldog ate him for like a month.
The animal control people are my only hope right now. If I whale and cry for long enough, sometimes, the neighbors notice, and they’ll call them. I don’t want to go back to dog prison, but at least they’ll get me some food.
Stay strong, everyone. And if you have a steak, treasure it. Treasure that thing like it’s made of gold. God bless.
– Socks

DookieStyle
YOu are weird. And brilliant.
February 12, 2007 at 4:33 pm
Babs
Your fans asked, and you delivered. Cheers.
February 12, 2007 at 8:01 pm
ziggy
Pure genius sir… QB Represent!
February 12, 2007 at 8:58 pm
insomniac
I just laughed loudly and extensively at the idea of a bulldog slowly gradually eating away at the body of Bison Dele. I hope you’re happy with yourself.
By the way, I fully expect the Letters from Pets to get more and more deranged the longer you stay at AOL. Some of those commenters are maddening and I know you’ll need to vent.
February 12, 2007 at 11:55 pm
The Big Picture
socks is gonna be lunch for joey porter’s pit bull.
February 13, 2007 at 2:28 am
danks
Does Stephen Jackson have a pet?
February 13, 2007 at 6:26 am
Torgo
The whole paragraph about the bulldog was priceless. Fucking amazing. Then, when I got to Bison, I laughed outloud, then felt guilty, then kept laughing. Beautiful work.
February 13, 2007 at 9:00 am
BigAl
My life had gone on far too long without a Bison Dele reference, now I can die in peace….that was hilarious!
February 16, 2007 at 12:26 am
extrapolater
Bison Dele!!!! I am going to laugh until I puke.
Then I’m going to eat something. Because I’m human, I have money, and opposable thumbs. Sorry, Socks, but that’s how I roll.
February 23, 2007 at 1:30 pm
LINDSEY
RON ARTEST IS GONE most of the NBA season, so really the PROBLEM was that he hired an irresponsible DOGGY SITTER. Perhaps his DOGGY SITTER NEVER EVEN SAW THE DOGS because they all roam on RON’S FIVE (5) ACRE ESTATE. I’m sure RON has learned that he needs to hire a more responsible DOG SITTER! The OTHER DOGS were NOT SKINNY, so obviously, Ron is not deliberately abusing his dogs.
February 26, 2007 at 11:53 am
Christine Boyle
OMG, Bison Dele! I had forgotten about him..Brian Williams! Playing for a “white-name coach”! Missing at sea! I laughed so hard, then also felt guilty since I guess he was killed by his brother. You are one brilliant guy.
March 6, 2007 at 2:44 pm