Me and Bill get out of the clink yesterday, right? Anyway, when you get out of the slammer, you get your own personalized parole officer. Ours is called John Pitralski. Boy, he didn't waste any time getting on our backs.
Me and Bill had just moved into a new (and dumpy, in my opinion) apartment, and we were on G-mail chat, minding our own business, when all of a sudden ... well, here, I'll just post the record of the chat for your, uh, edumacation. Just click on it to zoom in to the verbal fireworks.
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