I have become a political prisoner. I am the Nelson Mandela of Great Falls. The Great Falls PD have decided to lock me up and charge me with disturbing the peace, vandalism, conspiracy to incite riot, and a few other things. The hobo nation is without its king at this time. I pray to the Wyrd that my homeless brethren can fare without my sagely leadership. The police have even seen it fit to confiscate my crown. Fascists.

On a brighter note, I've been jailed with nearly fifty of my loyal subjects. We draw strength from our unity. Our oppressors may have shackled our bodies, but they'll never break the hobo spirit. 

Why, I look around and I see my people's carefully calculated displays of silent dissent. There's Boxcar Mick vomiting up the whiskey he had for breakfast onto a guard's shoes. And there's Cincinnati O'Rourke being all twitchy, offering to perform sexual favors to the guard if they'll get him some crack (Oh that O'Rourke! What a cha...

racter!). Then there's Knee-Brace Kenny yelling for someone to bring him a bench to sleep on before he pisses hisself.

I look upon my people and I feel a swell of pride. Patriots one and all.

Now just have to call my lawyer and wait for my motley...