People Are Strange
So, I wake up at 3:00 am this morning and this is my plan. All I want to do is quietly sneak out to the laundry room and wash a few clothes. I make every effort not to make the slightest bit of noise as I know all the other convicts in my unit are fast asleep enjoying their solitude. All’s well until the nutcase Sutton wakes up and does the Thorazine shuffle to the restroom. And immediately, men start to stir. This idiot has no idea how to pick up his feet when he walks and to worsen matters, he bumps into every other locker along his way and trips over a broom. Once through pissing on the wall because he’s too drugged up to find the urinal, the psych patient in question sees I’m doing laundry and decides to mimic me and do some too. Fumbling around, he attempts to open his locker. After fourteen tries and a lot of cursing, he finally remembers the combination to his lock and slings his locker door open with a loud clang.
Having been a complete and total dumbass, Sutton managed to wake up the queer and another psycho I call the security guard who both wander in the restroom to freak. The pansy heads to the shower and the peeping Tom stands in front of the urinal pretending to pee while watching the faggot with the shaved legs disrobe. In comes Mendez, aka the boxer, one of the other resident weirdos, who proceeds to take a 3:00 am bird bath in the sink. The Paizano shot caller is disrupted by all the idiocy and approaches the boxer to tell him to stop making noise and go back to sleep. An argument ensues in Spanish and more of the prison population awakes. Madder than a bunch of hornets doused in gasoline, all the cons want to annihilate whoever it is disrupting their sleep. About this time, Sutton comes stumbling back in the housing unit loudly asking someone who is not there what day it is. High on haledol and prolixin, he doesn’t know the difference between his ass and a hole in the ground. All the while, I’m lying on my bunk trying to remain as calm and as quiet as I can.
You see, men in prison enjoy their sleep. It’s the only real time they’re able to escape this place. Catching 40 winks is one of the few luxuries of doing time and no one wants to be disturbed. Certainly not by a bunch of idiot psych patients that should be in a nuthouse somewhere instead of in the joint doing time. All I wanted to do this morning was quietly get up and quickly slip out to the laundry room to wash a few clothes. Yet soon as this jerkoff Sutton saw what I was doing, it was monkey see- monkey do. Therefore, here I sit on my bunk penning this blog watching the unfortunate events of the morn. Everyone’s mad, no one can go back to sleep and many of the now pissed off cons are looking at me. That’s the way I “feel” anyway. I want to take Sutton’s retarded little ass in the foyer and beat his fucking butt! Looks like the only things he’s washed are one pair of boxer shorts and a couple of towels. And … he’s placed each of these three items in separate dryers causing anyone else waiting to dry their stuff to have to wait.
3:45 am now and the security guard is at the sink shaving his head. The dickmuncher is out of the shower braiding his hair. After all, he’s gotta look good when he walks out to recreation this morning to meet his daddy and get banged in his ass. The boxer is pacing up and down the aisles mumbling to himself as my friend Big Sam Pernar is awakened seeing what all’s going on. Looking over at me he shakes his head and laughs. He acknowledges the nuthouse in which we live (See previous blog titled “The Nuthouse” for further character identification) knowing there’s no excuse for the shit that goes on. Suddenly, psych patient Sutton decides he’ll have some chips for breakfast and starts rattling a bag. But oh no! Not before he attempts to open his locker again, the combination lock of which he should have left open instead of locking it back after the first time he tried to get in. Dropping half eaten Ruffles all over the floor then stepping on them as he walks, he loudly munches with his mouth open waking his neighbor who comes to me to bum an Ibuprofen who can’t go back to sleep. Yeah, what a cluster fuck this morning’s turned out to be. Oh how people are strange.
And did I forget to mention the shithead prison guard who just came through and wanted to know why everyone was already awake? Thinking inmates were drunk, he brought in his breathalyzer kit and made six of us blow. Fortunately, no one had been drinking. Yet if the machine could have tested for idiocy, five of the six of us would have went to the hole for being too stupid to breathe. What a true waste of oxygen some of these men are. Soon as the dickwad correctional officer went on his merry way, I went to the restroom to brush my teeth and shave. Staring in the mirror, I could see the security guard, the inmate not the CO., squatted down in a shitter stall staring through a small peephole in the door. With my toothbrush still in my mouth, I turned and rudely kicked the door. “Get up off your haunches you freak and take your happy ass back to the dorm!” Cursing me in unintelligible gibberish, the bald headed, half naked looney tune ran from the area and crawled under his sheets. Sam, now awake and standing beside me brushing his teeth, just laughed and laughed and laughed. Nothing ceases to amaze either of us living on this floor.
Yes, as I’ve mentioned before, some of these dicklicks wouldn’t have sense enough to pour piss out of a boot if the instructions were written on the heel. I’ll be so glad when Sutton gets out of prison next month. Maybe then I’ll be able to get up in the morning without him following me around. And the queer? Guess what he’s doing now? He’s taking cherry Kool-Aid, mixing it with water, and putting it on his lips as lipstick. Thinks its some of that Maybelline “Wet Diamonds” lipstick and it’ll get him laid. In another container he’s water downed some blue M & M’s to be used as eye shadow and his painting his eyelids. What a sick and twisted freak of nature this mother fucker is. Sutton, the security guard, the boxer and the queer. What a variety of stupid assholes we have here! Thank God it will be time to go to the library soon. Just one more hour before chow call and a bit of fresh air and food. Fresh air in high demand as the security guard just cut a succession of farts. Hope you’ve enjoyed my insight on what it’s like waking up in the pen. More to come! As I remain … Tripper, a guy doing time in federal prison. Better Days!
September 9, 2008 7:50 pm | 
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