This is getting ridiculous. Those damned furries and their...gimmicks. So what if I robbed that bank? And that deli? And that pizza joint? Before THEY came, I'd spend a few nights in lock-down and I'd be back at my crappy apartment before you could say 'what do you mean, this is my third strike?' But then they arrived...with their...progressive law enforcement techniques. Jail only compounds the problems, they argued, to fix a criminal you must fix them from within.

Bullocks.

A lot of people didn't trust the fuzzy invaders, no they didn't, but that didn't stop them from giving a few of us cons over to them for their little experiments. I've been stuck in this 'compound' of theirs for three friggin' months now, trapping in the body o' one of their 'younglings'. Re-education through play, they call it.

Well I ain't having none of it. They seem strict, but the security is pretty lax. I've almost escaped six times already, coming ever so dang close. It doesn't help that every time they catch me they...adjust me...which is fancy furry for 'make me younger'. I was right around ten when they first zapped me...now I'd be surprised if I'm still pushing four.

But I'm onnta them. They make everyone think it's the damnable collars that do it, that keep us like this...but I know the truth.

It's the clothes.

So when everyone's asleep, and the momma, i mean, the Warden has gone off to snooze, they're comin' off. Every stitch. And I'll dash out of here, scott free.

You'll see.