Prayers Pay

[nobody@REPLAY.COM (Anonymous)]

   The raiders hit early this morning, banging the door about
   4 AM, me groggily peeking out, a subpoena wadded into my
   shirt, then the bastards barged in. My ex-wife holding
   back, grinning like shit, saying you're fucked this time
   Johnny wee-dick.

   The black suits took all of it, computers, backup disks and
   tapes, printers, scanners, plotters, fuck, even the
   phones and message box -- jeez, why those?

   Harassment, teaching you a lesson, Bess my shark phoned
   just now, they shut your business down, take weeks to
   rummage the equipment and data, give it back slowly, one
   at a time, no hurry, wanting you to ache in case they find
   nothing. Swift justice, she hisses, even if you're
   innocent, cause nobody really is, they want you to scream,
   use you to broadcast a scare.

   Fuckups are getting gutted all over that Net Playboytoy.
   Six others this week, Bess coughs on, dragging deep, it's
   gonna rain even heavier in Exon's maelstrom, sweet darling
   maryjesus, prayers pay.