So, I spent 30 years in prison. It started out as a night in jail, I had been picked up on a warrant for an unpaid speeding ticket. That first night in my cell, nobody would put up bail, so I was spending the night in a small holding cage type cell with one other man. It was late when the guard decided to feed the two of us. It must have been ten o’clock at night and I was hungry and agitated, I suppose my fellow prisoner felt the same way. The guard had been sitting in a small office and he came out with two bowls, two spoons, and an open box of Lucky Charms. The spoons were made of stainless steel and looked like they’d been through a garbage disposal and would probably cut your tongue if you licked the spoon when eating pudding. The bowls were paper, which I found totally fucked up. So, the guard had us stand across the cage and he put the charms and bowls and spoons through the bars and down on the floor and walked away. I stepped forward and without picking up the bowl, I kneeled down and filled it with Lucky Charms. I then stood with my jagged spoon in one hand and my bowl of Lucky Charms in the other, and I spoke my first and last words to my fellow prisoner. I asked, do you think he forget the milk or they just don’t have any? That son of a bitch looked me right in the eye for a full moment and then spit into my bowl of Lucky Charms! I just kinda blacked out I guess. My vision came back all blurry, and my heart was racing, and my fellow prisoner was on the floor with my spoon sticking out of his left eye. The man was dead. The spoon didn’t kill him though. While he was screaming I had shoved handfuls of Lucky Charms down his throat until he died. So, I got 30 years no parole and earned the nickname, The Charmer. You know, on account of killing a stupid mother fucking son of a bitch with Lucky Charms.
So, being the Charmer and all, I was and am kinda famous with the sick fuckers who follow killers like cult heroes. These “fans” like to send me boxes of Lucky Charms and fan letters and art and that kind of shit. I get maybe 20 or 30 boxes of cereal a week. There’s no way the prison is going to let me have all those charms and they’re thoroughly checked by and mostly eaten by the guards, and that’s fine. Really, it’s totally fine and I’m cool with it. I get two boxes a week. Two is good you know. Lots of cereal. For 30 years, two boxes of cereal a week. For 30 years. life is a trip.
So, on my fifth year I get this new cellmate. He’s some ex political aid for some senator and he takes the fall down in Alabama, when this alt-right fuck chokes a 16 year old in a sleazy motel. This stupid guy straight out of college is a patsy and gets 25 years for murder and sodomy committed by a sleazy old closet Klan member. So, I don’t eat Lucky Charms. After killing a guy the way I did they make me gag. So, this stupid fucking kid cries and cries and so I give him my two boxes of Lucky Charms. The poor kid is a mess and he needs comfort and so he finds it in the eating of Luck Charms. This guy never does adapt to prison life after his affluent upbringing, so for 25 years this poor bastard I call Ten Toes Timmy eats and eats two boxes of Lucky Charms a week. Now in prison, the sodomites don’t have it too easy. Ten Toes can’t just walk about the yard or shower because of what he’s in for, right. This boring worthless Richard Spencer wanna be just sits in my cell and stinks and gets bigger and bigger and bigger for 25 years. I call him Ten Toes because he’s so damned boring. And it’s ironic because me being the Charmer he loses toes.
The health care in prison is shit. When you sit in a cell eating charms and whimpering all day while your lifer cellmate smacks you and berates you for being a boring, sniveling piece of alt-right shit your health declines. It declines and doesn’t get better. After 15 years, Ten Toes had eaten 1,680 boxes of Lucky Charms and now had diabetes. He found out he had diabetes when he went into diabetic shock and woke up with one of his giant bloated pink feet missing a toe. Every year after that for ten years he lost a toe. He kept eating Lucky Charms and losing toes and stinking up my cell like it was his life work. His 25th year in prison was my 30th and strangely enough we were due for release on the same day. Unfortunately Ten Toes died the morning of his release. He had grown to a weight of 600 pounds. The cell door was much too small for his giant girth and the plan was to remove the bars for his release. I couldn’t let a man I’d known for 25 years go through that and lose the last of his dignity. So, I grabbed the last box of Lucky Charms I ever received in prison and proceeded to shove handfuls down his throat until he died. The prison called it natural causes for ol’ Ten Toes Timmy, the sodomite patsy nobody gave a fuck about. I walked free and this is my confession.