Transcription:

I just received your superheated letter in regard to the bill I owe you. You said you thought the bill could have been paid long ago, and you could not understand why it wasn’t. Well, I will enlighten you right now.

In 1907 I bought a saw mill on credit. In 1908 I bought an ox cart, two timber carts and a breach loading shotgun. I also bought a wire tester and a Colt revolver and two fine razorback hogs and all on the same installment plan. In 1909 the mill burned down and didn’t leave a thing. One of the hogs died and I loaned the other to a Son-of-a-bitch who starved him to death. Then I joined a church. In 1910 my father was lynched for horse stealing. A railroader hooked up my daughter and it cost me $75 to keep the little bastard from becoming a relative of mine. In 1911 my boy caught the mumps and they went down him, so I had to have him castrated in order to save his life. That summer I went fishing and the boat overturned and I lost the biggest G-D catfish you ever saw and two of my sons drowned, neither of them being the one that was castrated.

In 1915 my wife ran away with a heavy-hung removed and left me a pair of twins as a souvenir. Then I married the hired girl to keep expenses down but I had trouble getting her to go off. I asked the doctor and he said to excite her about the time I thought she was ready. That night I took the shotgun to bed with me and when I thought she was ready I stuck it out the window and pulled the trigger. The wife shit in bed, I ruptured myself and killed the best cow I ever had.

In 1930 I burned out and took to drinking. I didn’t stop until all I had left was a dollar watch and kidney trouble. For a time all I did was wind my watch and piss.

The next year I decided to start all over again so I bought a manure spreader, a binder, a threshing machine, all on credit. Then along came a cyclone and blew them all into the next county. My wife got a dose of claps from a traveling sales- man, my youngest son wiped his ass on a corncob that was covered with rat poison and some Son-of-a-bitch denutted my best bull.

At the present time if it costs me a nickel to shit, I’d have to puke. Yet you say you can cause me trouble. Listen, trying to get money out of me would be harder than trying to pack butter up a cat’s ass with a red hot poker, but mister you are welcome to try.

Edit: I do not condone the usage of slurs in the original post but left it in for historical accuracy.