Post by King Incredible on Jul 2, 2019 8:41:11 GMT -5
It’s been thirty days since I entered this place; my temporary home away from home. I laughed at the notion of people losing themselves in prison. “They must be pussies,” I always thought. You’re not a man if you can’t make it in the slammer. Prison is for the strong, and it weeds out the wussies. You’re either the alpha male – or the pen bitch. Or, if you can, you’re both.
My train of thought broke when the lights of Monroe County Detention Center ignited like a blaze from a massive fire, causing my eyes to squint. The awful fluorescent lights, combined with the sky window, made the main prison lock up sickly bright. Thankfully my cell was held up in the corner, and was in shadows for most of the day. It made the cell pitch black at night, perfect for sleeping.
Of course, on the night’s I did sleep.
“Roll call!”
The cell doors opened as each prisoner stepped out of his respective holding cell, two to a cell. I stepped out onto the concrete floor, followed by my cellmate, Toni. Toni was a new one I got paired with as the previous one, whose name I never got, kept laughing.
I made that stop though.
Closing my eyes, I listened as the cop with a heavy southern accent call each prisoner’s number, as they did not call us by our given names. This took about twenty minutes to do because some idiots didn’t answer and were reprimanded for it. This was not a fair prison for sure. I remember seeing movies like The Shawshank Redemption, and shows like Oz, wondering if the portrayals of prison were true. Of course, they told the truth. Crooked cops, rule breaking and some prisoners get special treatment.
I was one of them.
After roll call, we were shuffled into the cafeteria to have a shit breakfast. Awful, runny scrambled eggs, toast as hard as brick, an undercooked flat sausage and to top it off, lukewarm water. Following breakfast, as the warden wants it, anyone who started to grow facial hair or have anything longer than an inch of hair had to be shaved and buzzed. We all had to look alike. Thankfully, I had mine three days ago. Those who didn’t need the cut were sent back to their cells until outside time; much later. I lay on my bed, staring at the concrete, when a book cart came up.
“Book for Mr. TIO,” the older man who manned the book cart said, and he was known as Bookworm.
“I didn’t order anything,” I called out, not moving.
“Get your ass down here or I’m going,” Bookworm cursed, shaking his cart.
With a heavy sigh, I rolled off the bed and landed on my feet. Ignoring my cellmate’s curiosity, I leaned against the bars and was handed a copy of “Romeo and Juliet”.
“Page twenty,” Bookworm winked, as he went off with his cart.
Finally.
A smirk came across my face as I hopped back up on my bed and flipped through the first few pages of the old Shakespearean tragedy. I reached the twentieth page and tucked inside the book was something folded and a single stick of sticky tack. I carefully unfolded the shiny paper, trying not to rip it. Finally unfolded, I turned it over from its shiny white back to see the poster I requested. It was smaller than I thought it would be, but I guess I had to be realistic.
Something to look at and admire. Something to look at and wonder. In this place, there’s nothing to look at except the prison and the others locked inside. When I do sleep, I dream of a mirror; a mirror to see my reflection. You forget the luxury of being able to examine yourself physically and mentally by a quick glance in the mirror. I haven’t seen myself in thirty days and it’s starting to take that effect on me. What do I look like? I haven’t had a beard in a decade, same with a buzz cut. More importantly though, what am I becoming? What is this prison turning me into? I don’t know. I won’t know for awhile. In the meantime, I can stare at this and think about what the future has in store for me.
I placed the sticky tack onto the wall next to my bed and stuck the poster onto the wall. I lay back on the bed and ran my fingers onto the words that read “OCW Champion” before clenching my fist and staring at the face of the champion.
Enjoy it, Best.
My train of thought broke when the lights of Monroe County Detention Center ignited like a blaze from a massive fire, causing my eyes to squint. The awful fluorescent lights, combined with the sky window, made the main prison lock up sickly bright. Thankfully my cell was held up in the corner, and was in shadows for most of the day. It made the cell pitch black at night, perfect for sleeping.
Of course, on the night’s I did sleep.
“Roll call!”
The cell doors opened as each prisoner stepped out of his respective holding cell, two to a cell. I stepped out onto the concrete floor, followed by my cellmate, Toni. Toni was a new one I got paired with as the previous one, whose name I never got, kept laughing.
I made that stop though.
Closing my eyes, I listened as the cop with a heavy southern accent call each prisoner’s number, as they did not call us by our given names. This took about twenty minutes to do because some idiots didn’t answer and were reprimanded for it. This was not a fair prison for sure. I remember seeing movies like The Shawshank Redemption, and shows like Oz, wondering if the portrayals of prison were true. Of course, they told the truth. Crooked cops, rule breaking and some prisoners get special treatment.
I was one of them.
After roll call, we were shuffled into the cafeteria to have a shit breakfast. Awful, runny scrambled eggs, toast as hard as brick, an undercooked flat sausage and to top it off, lukewarm water. Following breakfast, as the warden wants it, anyone who started to grow facial hair or have anything longer than an inch of hair had to be shaved and buzzed. We all had to look alike. Thankfully, I had mine three days ago. Those who didn’t need the cut were sent back to their cells until outside time; much later. I lay on my bed, staring at the concrete, when a book cart came up.
“Book for Mr. TIO,” the older man who manned the book cart said, and he was known as Bookworm.
“I didn’t order anything,” I called out, not moving.
“Get your ass down here or I’m going,” Bookworm cursed, shaking his cart.
With a heavy sigh, I rolled off the bed and landed on my feet. Ignoring my cellmate’s curiosity, I leaned against the bars and was handed a copy of “Romeo and Juliet”.
“Page twenty,” Bookworm winked, as he went off with his cart.
Finally.
A smirk came across my face as I hopped back up on my bed and flipped through the first few pages of the old Shakespearean tragedy. I reached the twentieth page and tucked inside the book was something folded and a single stick of sticky tack. I carefully unfolded the shiny paper, trying not to rip it. Finally unfolded, I turned it over from its shiny white back to see the poster I requested. It was smaller than I thought it would be, but I guess I had to be realistic.
Something to look at and admire. Something to look at and wonder. In this place, there’s nothing to look at except the prison and the others locked inside. When I do sleep, I dream of a mirror; a mirror to see my reflection. You forget the luxury of being able to examine yourself physically and mentally by a quick glance in the mirror. I haven’t seen myself in thirty days and it’s starting to take that effect on me. What do I look like? I haven’t had a beard in a decade, same with a buzz cut. More importantly though, what am I becoming? What is this prison turning me into? I don’t know. I won’t know for awhile. In the meantime, I can stare at this and think about what the future has in store for me.
I placed the sticky tack onto the wall next to my bed and stuck the poster onto the wall. I lay back on the bed and ran my fingers onto the words that read “OCW Champion” before clenching my fist and staring at the face of the champion.
Enjoy it, Best.
