Dear Santa, This Christmas I'd like a new

Dear Santa, This Christmas I'd like a new bicycle, a warm coat, and a puppy. But I don't want you to bring them to me. Please give them to Jacob Nealy. Thank you Santa, Paul.

The letter to Santa seemed innocent enough, but what Santa didn't know was that Jacob Nealy was in a maximum security prison in Eddyville. A bike, a coat, and a puppy was all Nealy

needed to surprise the warden at the officers and prisoners Christmas function. Jacob Nealy had been looking forward to the party all year. He'd put to use his talents at baking

his pets. Jacob Nealy would put a pillow case over his cat's head and blow pot smoke into it. Once his cat was high, hijinx ensues. How could he get the cat to the Prison Xmas

Party. Scruntchnugget, Jacob Nealy's pothead cat was central part of his plan to break out of the Big Bone Lick Correctional Facility. Scrunchnugget was supposed to hide in Santas

House where her humans could effectively hide the fifty million crowns in the suitcase. She was never found except by those folding this story. We know only because Jacob joined us

Still we had the knowledge that our words were worth something, and this inspired us, the lucky ten, we happy few, to continue writing

in the face of complete obscurity, because we know that the only thing worse than no being read is not having written in the first place. We control only our output, then send it

out into a heartless world too busy with their empty shell of a life to notice the anchoring line that would fling them into happiness because you wrote that line just for them.