Page 74 of Fragments
Today is your typical Whateversday in AP. Lester McDermott, akaDirt, bit some guy’s balls in the showers this morning and got tased by two different guards while he was ass naked. We had watery Egg Beaters for breakfast, and Toby found a toenail in his. Joy broke Parson’s hand with her billy club for flipping her off, and I borrowed a book about birds from Freeman that I read two pages of before it put me to sleep.
Just another day in the Pen.
I was already tired, and the bird book didn’t help. I think my body can tell it’s probably nice outside, and not being able to experience it is like forced seasonal depression. I might have a Vitamin D deficiency.
Speaking of D…
A familiar booming voice and heavy footsteps wake me from my cat nap. Sitting up, I’m rubbing my eyes as Officer Chevelle blows into our cell like a tornado, followed by one of the newer guards. I think his name is Hancock.
“Checks!” Velle purposely hollers as loud as possible, even though we obviously know what he’s doing.
I climb down from my bunk, joining my cellmate, Toby Turner, on the wall with an annoyed sigh while the guards toss our shit everywhere.
I used to bunk with this older guy named O’Bannon, but for some reason, they moved me to a new cell, in a completely different row. I had it to myself until Toby got here a few months ago. He’s a nice guy, polite. A good conversationalist. The only problem is that he hasn’t figured out the golden rule of prison:never talk about what’s happening outside of prison.
Constantly yammering about what your friends are probably doing, obsessing about your ex, complaining about shows you’re missing and ranting about food you wish you could eat is only, like, themostobnoxious thing you can do in here. It’s the best way to drive yourself and everyone around you completely batshit.
Toby doesn’t seem to follow this concept, and sometimes it makes me want to throat-punch him. But I won’t, because I guess he’s a friend.A really annoying one.He and Parker Freeman are the only guys I associate with. And between Freeman’s Eeyore personality and Toby’s nonstop blathering, I sincerely miss the ability to mute people.
Prison’s tough for a young millennial.
“Boss,” Hancock calls to Velle, and I peer over to find him holding up the bird book. “What about this?”
Velle pauses his search of Toby’s mattress, squinting at the book in Hancock’s hand. Then he glances at me, arching a brow. “Where’d you get that, 35?”
“I borrowed it.” I give him a pointed look paired with a condescending tone I can’t help using when I speak to him.
He’s not amused. “From…?”
“Who cares?” I grunt. “It’s a book about birds. What’s the big deal?”
Velle purses his lips. Hancock is flipping through every page of the book, shaking it around as if he expects something to be hidden inside. But he finds nothing and sighs, “It’s clean.”
“You lucked out, Birdman,” Velle sneers at me, and I roll my eyes. Cocking his head, he glowers at me. “Cool it with the attitude, inmate. I’m just looking out for the safety and wellbeing of my prisoners.” His mouth curves in a patronizing smirk.
“Protecting us against ornithology?” I smirk back, fighting his attitude with my own.
“Cute,” he grunts, then snaps at Hancock. “All clear.”
Velle stomps toward the bars, slapping me hard on the back. “Be careful what you bring in here, inmate. Wouldn’t want you to take the fall for someone else’s mistake.”
I’m just shaking my head in annoyance as the two of them leave, slamming the cell door on their way out.
“He’s the worst,” Toby sighs.
“Pretty close,” I rumble while we walk around cleaning up the mess they left, keeping my thoughts on Velle to myself.
Another thing that makes Alabaster Pen sufficiently worse than other prisons is itscommissary, if you will. In lieu of money, we pay for goods in sexual favors, either with other inmates—a dick-trade of sorts—or with the guards directly.
So, yea.That was a fun realization. I’ve never even had a girlfriend, and I suddenly had to wrap my head around servicing strange men in exchange for toothpaste.
It was the most out of my element I could ever be. With sex, yes. But withgaysex?
I might as well have been watching the alien Olympics.
Thankfully, I’ve been able to narrowly avoid becoming someone’sbitch. That’s not to say I haven’t done things… Itisabout survival, after all. But apparently, I’m one of the only people in here with a skill that doesn’t revolve around polishing the knob.
I know tech.
