“You have to be fucking kidding me!” I huffed and puffed while snatching the sheets off of my face.
I had a serious attitude because I had been lying on my bunk bed trying hard to ignore my cellmate’s snoring. I tried everything I could to
tune him out but nothing was working. It also didn’t help that we share a fifteen by seven foot cell. The prison guards swear that our cell is
thirty percent larger than the average two man cell. They remind us of this little fact every time they threaten to take the cell away from us
in order to use it for more prison office space. I don’t care what they say; this cell is the same as the others, cramped.
Our cell furniture consists of: a single steel bunk bed with two bullshit mattresses; which is attached to the wall, a single toilet, a water
fountain, a sink, two lockers, and a steel tabletop with a seat; which is also attached to the wall. So, can you imagine the two of us sharing
this little space?
In trying to tune out my cellmate, I’ve been forced to rearrange my fucking bed from the neat military look it has everyday. That is, my
pillows are normally stacked on top of each other and the sheet is pulled all the way up, folded over and tucked in. Now I’ve placed one of
my pillows over my head to try and block out his loud ass. That became uncomfortable because I felt like I was smothering. I tried turning on
my right side to face the wall and placed the pillow over the left side of my head. That didn’t work either. I tried pulling the sheet up over my
head and placing the pillow on top of it. Of course, that definitely cut my air off. That wasn’t going to work!
“Come on! Give me a break!” I was really frustrated.
I rolled back on my back and punched my fist violently in the air. I brought my arms down to my sides and began pounding my fist into the
bed. I can’t believe I am actually throwing a kiddie temper tantrum.
I leaned over the right side of my bed and looked down at my cell mate. Dude was lying on his back with his head tilted to the side on his
pillow snoring like a hibernating bear, sound asleep.
I thought about throwing my pillow down at him, but I thought better of it. I didn’t feel like starting any commotion with him tonight. I
leaned back onto my bed wondering how in the world he hadn’t woke himself up with his snoring. That had happened to him once before. I
guess I’m not lucky enough to have that done again.
“I’m never going to get any sleep.” I mumbled as I placed my pillows at the other end of my bed. I turned my sheet and body around so that
my head was over my cellmate’s feet. Maybe this will be better.
I looked at our tiny cell window and noticed that the sun was beginning to rise over the prison compound. It was then that I realized just
how much sleep time I had lost. The outline of the sky looked like butter that had melted in a bowl of oatmeal. That would have been a
beautiful view under different circumstances; however, it was bittersweet to me now.
Well, I’m trying to look at my last few hours on the bright side, now I have a jump on the day’s activities. If I get up right now and begin
going through my morning routine…this nigga done started talking in his sleep. He has interrupted my thoughts with yet another of his
irritating antics. I give up!
I sat up on my bed and swung my legs over the side. I looked towards the window and attempted to see the outside, but all I could see was
the morning dew on the glass. The window was so foggy that it looked like it was steam from a hot shower. I slid towards the end of my
bed and maneuvered to slide my hand between the window bars and wipe it clean. The only thing that happened was that I got a wet
hand. I still couldn’t see out the window. I wiped my hands on my boxers and slid back onto my bed.
I looked around on my bed, searching for my ‘special’ late night towel. You know…the one that I use when I’m masturbating to my Black
Beauties magazine. I spotted it wrapped inside of my blanket along with my magazine.
I grabbed the towel and eased towards the window again. I wrapped the towel around my arm, stuck my arm through the bars, and wiped
the window clean. This time I could see clearly out the window.
I could see all the way across the prison yard. Just past the forty foot chained linked fenced, adorned with barb wires; I could see the
correction officer that was working the guard tower. He was gathering his stuff together for shift change. I grabbed a pillow, lay on the bed
on my stomach, and watched him through my window.
I patiently watched as if I was looking at my favorite television show. The day shift replacement officer entered the tower and began to carry
on a conversation with the night shift officer. The way I was watching, you would have thought I was watching something exciting. I wasn’t.
It was just that I was searching for something to do to pass the time since sleeping obviously was out of the question.
Now that I think about it, I’ll bet those officers are just as mad about having to be awake at this time of morning as I am. It’s a little
entertaining watching them because I know that they have to hate their jobs. Who wants a job watching a bunch of grown ass men?
Everyday they watch the same old, sweaty, stinking ass men. That in itself is enough to make anyone hate their job!
I wonder if anyone has ever escaped from here. I find it hard to believe that anyone could escape those tall walls with the barb wire
mountings. I know that no one has attempted an escape since I’ve been here. I know I’m not trying to try that shit! No way! I’m just gonna
ride my sentence out. I can’t afford to add any additional time to my bid trying some foolish escape plan.
The chilliness of my cell snapped me back from my daydream. The heat from the sun beaming in my window is keeping me warm, along with
the thick blanket on my bed. The buzz of the lights being turned on began. They noisily flicked on in my cell then followed through the entire
galley. It’s funny that electricity actually has a sound. Ah, the next noise is the sound of the cell doors opening. That sounds like bliss in here.
The guards can be heard walking by each cell banging their night sticks against the cell bars. That’s considered your alarm clock. What I’d give
to hear a real alarm clock for a change.
“RISE AND SHINE LADIES!” The guards infamous phrase resounded throughout the galley. They know damn well there aren’t any women in
here. That’s their way of making us feel inferior.
I sat up in my bed and dangled my feet over the side. I rubbed my eyes for no apparent reason because it’s not like I was waking from a
good night’s sleep. I leaned over my bunk with both arms firmly supporting my weight to see if my celly was up and sure enough like clock
work he was up and doing the same thing. He looked up at me, with the covers still pulled up to his neck, and make eye contact with me.
We gave each other the usual nod. He spoke Portuguese only; however, our body language didn’t require spoken word. We understood
each other.
I hopped down off the top bunk as he stood up from the lower bunk. We both began to go through our morning ritual of putting our
clothes on and getting ourselves presentable for the day ahead. It can be difficult to both do this at the same time in this small cell; however,
we have adapted to our confined space and have created a routine. During our routine, my celly would always go to the cell doorway and
peep out before returning to his bed, reaching under his bunk mattress and grabbing a phone book. This was a phone book that he used as
a protection vest. He had customized it to fit his torso. He would put this against his skin as a shield and then put on the rest of his clothes.
He did this because he had beef with some of the other Portuguese inmates. Word is that they had some incidents on the streets and when
they got locked up, there were all in the same prison.
While he was finishing getting dressed, I would post up at our doorway and watch to make sure no one was coming. When he was ready, I
would let him exit our cell in front of me. I wasn’t a fool. He has beef and I don’t want to be an innocent victim. This way, if one of his
enemies was outside of our cell they would get him instead of me. Before he would exit, he would peep out looking both left and right.
Then he would step outside.
Once outside our cell, we would stand side by side at attention for the morning count. I had begun to get sleepy and had to rock myself a
little just to stay awake. I yawned as the count got to us. My celly never understood what the guards were saying so he would just respond,
“Adonde vai?” and cock his head to the side. When they wouldn’t answer him, he would get angry and start speaking that Portuguese shit.
At every count he did this and it was funny every time.
We had a white man in the neighboring cell who understood a little Portuguese. One day I asked him what my cellmate was saying. He said,
“Where did he go?” My celly was asking the guard where he went at night when we were inside the cells. He said the rest was curse words
my celly was using because the guards never responded to him and he thought they were ignoring him. He didn’t know that they didn’t
understand him the same way that he doesn’t understand them.
Once the count was over and everyone was accounted for we were ordered to get back into our cells and get ready for breakfast. I let my
celly enter our cell first and I would watch his back. The only thing we had left to do would be to wash our faces and brush our teeth. I
would let him go first. He would wait for me to finish and then we would exit our cell and get in the line leading towards the steps so that
we could go to the mess hall for chow.
After chow, we could socialize in the recreation room. That room was always full of comedy. There was a TV in there, but the comedy wasn’
t on the TV. The inmates were the comedians. Everyday inmates would argue or fight over what we would watch on the TV. The unspoken
rule was that whoever got to the TV first would control what was watched until that person left the room. Today, we had entered the
recreation room and for some unknown reason there was no guard in there. That was very unusual. Anyways, everyone in the room had
agreed on the channel that the TV was on.
In walks an inmate named Lucky. Lucky’s government name was Martin Taylor. He was called Lucky because every time he was incarcerated,
it was over some small crime he had committed, instead of the big crimes that he was known to actually have committed.
Any time Lucky is in the recreation room, it always turns into ‘Showtime At The Apollo’. He loved attention and always wanted to become
the comedian of the crowd. A lot of inmates hated Lucky and their whole demeanor would change when he was around. Today was no
different because when he came in as only he does. He walked straight over to the TV to change the channel because he wanted to watch
‘Law and Order’. Everyone was quiet except this one kid named Supreme, from New York. His government name was Ismail Sanders.
“Yo, don’t touch that fucking TV Lucky!” Supreme mean faced.
Lucky looked at Supreme and then around the room at everyone else and decided he was going to put on a good show while everyone was
looking at him.
“Do you know who I am?” Lucky smirked with his lip turned up like he had tasted something nasty.
“I don’t give a fuck who you are nigga! We’re already watching this channel.” Supreme stood up over the chair that he had been sitting in
backwards, with his legs spread apart.
“What Nigga?” Lucky looked at Supreme, surprised that he was being tested.
“Listen Lucky, I’m not in the mood.” Supreme stated.
“I don’t give a fuck what anybody in this room is watching or in the mood for! I want to watch ‘Law and mother fucking Order’! And if I don’t
get to watch my show I will pour fucking water on the television and nobody will watch shit!” Lucky snapped at Supreme, as he sat down in
a chair with his back to Supreme as if he was no threat at all.
“That’s how you really feel?” Supreme had a sinister sound in his voice.
“That’s what the fuck I said isn’t it?” Lucky turned his head slightly to the right where he could see over his shoulder in Supreme’s direction.
He could only see half of Supreme’s face.
“BET!” Supreme spat as he removed his chair from between his legs and walked towards Lucky as if he was getting ready to handle him.
Lucky jumped up to his feet so that he wasn’t caught off guard. Supreme strangely walked past Lucky and out of the recreation room. Lucky
hadn’t expected that.
“You better step with that bullshit!” Lucky barked at the empty doorway and then looked around the room at everyone else as if to dare any
of them to challenge him.
“Damn he punked the shit out of Preme.” I thought.
“Now, like I said, we will be watching mother fucking ‘Law and Order’.” Lucky felt like the big man of the hour, as he turned the TV channel
and then walked over to a chair and sat down.
Out of no where, Supreme stepped back into the room with a Dixie cup full of water. He looked around until he located Lucky.
“This is for you.” He walked over to the TV and sat the cup on top of it. Then he reached and turned the TV back to BET. He turned
around and looked Lucky in the eyes and said, “Go head nigga, spill that water on that TV and watch what I do to your fucking ass.”
“Nigga what?” Lucky jumped to his feet but never took a step towards Supreme or the TV.
“Like I said, touch that water and see how unlucky you become.” Supreme had a killer face on.
“Yo, you really don’t realize who I am kid!” Lucky was getting angry.
“Listen, I’m not into the small talk. Stop lip boxing and do your thing” Supreme replied.
“I’m not either!” Lucky pounded his chest with an open hand.
“Make your move then.” Supreme dared Lucky.
We all watched in hopes that Lucky would make a move so that we would see Supreme whoop his ass. That never happened because
Supreme walked back to his seat, sat down and began to watch TV with the rest of us. Lucky looked around the room at each of us and
then back at Supreme.
“I didn’t want to watch TV any fucking way.” Lucky mumbled, kicked his chair and then left the room. We heard him tell the guards that he
was going to his cell. I didn’t see Lucky for the rest of the day.
Everyone in the room began to laugh and give Supreme dap. We were all talking about how funny that shit was. Everyone commented on
how they were happy that Supreme had put Lucky in his place. After a while, I got tired of hearing about the incident and watching
everyone ride Supreme’s dick. I decided to take a breather, so I got up and asked one of the guards if I could return to my cell. He gave me
permission and I left the recreation room. When I entered my cell, I realized that my celly hadn’t returned yet. This was my chance to relax
and try to catch up on some much needed sleep. I jumped up onto my bunk, smiled to myself, and laid back to think about everything I’ve
done in my life. I asked myself over and over, how I could have been so stupid that I got myself caught up into some crazy shit that landed
my ass here. I know this might sound crazy but the mother fucking streets are safer when I’m behind these here bars.
I had a serious attitude because I had been lying on my bunk bed trying hard to ignore my cellmate’s snoring. I tried everything I could to
tune him out but nothing was working. It also didn’t help that we share a fifteen by seven foot cell. The prison guards swear that our cell is
thirty percent larger than the average two man cell. They remind us of this little fact every time they threaten to take the cell away from us
in order to use it for more prison office space. I don’t care what they say; this cell is the same as the others, cramped.
Our cell furniture consists of: a single steel bunk bed with two bullshit mattresses; which is attached to the wall, a single toilet, a water
fountain, a sink, two lockers, and a steel tabletop with a seat; which is also attached to the wall. So, can you imagine the two of us sharing
this little space?
In trying to tune out my cellmate, I’ve been forced to rearrange my fucking bed from the neat military look it has everyday. That is, my
pillows are normally stacked on top of each other and the sheet is pulled all the way up, folded over and tucked in. Now I’ve placed one of
my pillows over my head to try and block out his loud ass. That became uncomfortable because I felt like I was smothering. I tried turning on
my right side to face the wall and placed the pillow over the left side of my head. That didn’t work either. I tried pulling the sheet up over my
head and placing the pillow on top of it. Of course, that definitely cut my air off. That wasn’t going to work!
“Come on! Give me a break!” I was really frustrated.
I rolled back on my back and punched my fist violently in the air. I brought my arms down to my sides and began pounding my fist into the
bed. I can’t believe I am actually throwing a kiddie temper tantrum.
I leaned over the right side of my bed and looked down at my cell mate. Dude was lying on his back with his head tilted to the side on his
pillow snoring like a hibernating bear, sound asleep.
I thought about throwing my pillow down at him, but I thought better of it. I didn’t feel like starting any commotion with him tonight. I
leaned back onto my bed wondering how in the world he hadn’t woke himself up with his snoring. That had happened to him once before. I
guess I’m not lucky enough to have that done again.
“I’m never going to get any sleep.” I mumbled as I placed my pillows at the other end of my bed. I turned my sheet and body around so that
my head was over my cellmate’s feet. Maybe this will be better.
I looked at our tiny cell window and noticed that the sun was beginning to rise over the prison compound. It was then that I realized just
how much sleep time I had lost. The outline of the sky looked like butter that had melted in a bowl of oatmeal. That would have been a
beautiful view under different circumstances; however, it was bittersweet to me now.
Well, I’m trying to look at my last few hours on the bright side, now I have a jump on the day’s activities. If I get up right now and begin
going through my morning routine…this nigga done started talking in his sleep. He has interrupted my thoughts with yet another of his
irritating antics. I give up!
I sat up on my bed and swung my legs over the side. I looked towards the window and attempted to see the outside, but all I could see was
the morning dew on the glass. The window was so foggy that it looked like it was steam from a hot shower. I slid towards the end of my
bed and maneuvered to slide my hand between the window bars and wipe it clean. The only thing that happened was that I got a wet
hand. I still couldn’t see out the window. I wiped my hands on my boxers and slid back onto my bed.
I looked around on my bed, searching for my ‘special’ late night towel. You know…the one that I use when I’m masturbating to my Black
Beauties magazine. I spotted it wrapped inside of my blanket along with my magazine.
I grabbed the towel and eased towards the window again. I wrapped the towel around my arm, stuck my arm through the bars, and wiped
the window clean. This time I could see clearly out the window.
I could see all the way across the prison yard. Just past the forty foot chained linked fenced, adorned with barb wires; I could see the
correction officer that was working the guard tower. He was gathering his stuff together for shift change. I grabbed a pillow, lay on the bed
on my stomach, and watched him through my window.
I patiently watched as if I was looking at my favorite television show. The day shift replacement officer entered the tower and began to carry
on a conversation with the night shift officer. The way I was watching, you would have thought I was watching something exciting. I wasn’t.
It was just that I was searching for something to do to pass the time since sleeping obviously was out of the question.
Now that I think about it, I’ll bet those officers are just as mad about having to be awake at this time of morning as I am. It’s a little
entertaining watching them because I know that they have to hate their jobs. Who wants a job watching a bunch of grown ass men?
Everyday they watch the same old, sweaty, stinking ass men. That in itself is enough to make anyone hate their job!
I wonder if anyone has ever escaped from here. I find it hard to believe that anyone could escape those tall walls with the barb wire
mountings. I know that no one has attempted an escape since I’ve been here. I know I’m not trying to try that shit! No way! I’m just gonna
ride my sentence out. I can’t afford to add any additional time to my bid trying some foolish escape plan.
The chilliness of my cell snapped me back from my daydream. The heat from the sun beaming in my window is keeping me warm, along with
the thick blanket on my bed. The buzz of the lights being turned on began. They noisily flicked on in my cell then followed through the entire
galley. It’s funny that electricity actually has a sound. Ah, the next noise is the sound of the cell doors opening. That sounds like bliss in here.
The guards can be heard walking by each cell banging their night sticks against the cell bars. That’s considered your alarm clock. What I’d give
to hear a real alarm clock for a change.
“RISE AND SHINE LADIES!” The guards infamous phrase resounded throughout the galley. They know damn well there aren’t any women in
here. That’s their way of making us feel inferior.
I sat up in my bed and dangled my feet over the side. I rubbed my eyes for no apparent reason because it’s not like I was waking from a
good night’s sleep. I leaned over my bunk with both arms firmly supporting my weight to see if my celly was up and sure enough like clock
work he was up and doing the same thing. He looked up at me, with the covers still pulled up to his neck, and make eye contact with me.
We gave each other the usual nod. He spoke Portuguese only; however, our body language didn’t require spoken word. We understood
each other.
I hopped down off the top bunk as he stood up from the lower bunk. We both began to go through our morning ritual of putting our
clothes on and getting ourselves presentable for the day ahead. It can be difficult to both do this at the same time in this small cell; however,
we have adapted to our confined space and have created a routine. During our routine, my celly would always go to the cell doorway and
peep out before returning to his bed, reaching under his bunk mattress and grabbing a phone book. This was a phone book that he used as
a protection vest. He had customized it to fit his torso. He would put this against his skin as a shield and then put on the rest of his clothes.
He did this because he had beef with some of the other Portuguese inmates. Word is that they had some incidents on the streets and when
they got locked up, there were all in the same prison.
While he was finishing getting dressed, I would post up at our doorway and watch to make sure no one was coming. When he was ready, I
would let him exit our cell in front of me. I wasn’t a fool. He has beef and I don’t want to be an innocent victim. This way, if one of his
enemies was outside of our cell they would get him instead of me. Before he would exit, he would peep out looking both left and right.
Then he would step outside.
Once outside our cell, we would stand side by side at attention for the morning count. I had begun to get sleepy and had to rock myself a
little just to stay awake. I yawned as the count got to us. My celly never understood what the guards were saying so he would just respond,
“Adonde vai?” and cock his head to the side. When they wouldn’t answer him, he would get angry and start speaking that Portuguese shit.
At every count he did this and it was funny every time.
We had a white man in the neighboring cell who understood a little Portuguese. One day I asked him what my cellmate was saying. He said,
“Where did he go?” My celly was asking the guard where he went at night when we were inside the cells. He said the rest was curse words
my celly was using because the guards never responded to him and he thought they were ignoring him. He didn’t know that they didn’t
understand him the same way that he doesn’t understand them.
Once the count was over and everyone was accounted for we were ordered to get back into our cells and get ready for breakfast. I let my
celly enter our cell first and I would watch his back. The only thing we had left to do would be to wash our faces and brush our teeth. I
would let him go first. He would wait for me to finish and then we would exit our cell and get in the line leading towards the steps so that
we could go to the mess hall for chow.
After chow, we could socialize in the recreation room. That room was always full of comedy. There was a TV in there, but the comedy wasn’
t on the TV. The inmates were the comedians. Everyday inmates would argue or fight over what we would watch on the TV. The unspoken
rule was that whoever got to the TV first would control what was watched until that person left the room. Today, we had entered the
recreation room and for some unknown reason there was no guard in there. That was very unusual. Anyways, everyone in the room had
agreed on the channel that the TV was on.
In walks an inmate named Lucky. Lucky’s government name was Martin Taylor. He was called Lucky because every time he was incarcerated,
it was over some small crime he had committed, instead of the big crimes that he was known to actually have committed.
Any time Lucky is in the recreation room, it always turns into ‘Showtime At The Apollo’. He loved attention and always wanted to become
the comedian of the crowd. A lot of inmates hated Lucky and their whole demeanor would change when he was around. Today was no
different because when he came in as only he does. He walked straight over to the TV to change the channel because he wanted to watch
‘Law and Order’. Everyone was quiet except this one kid named Supreme, from New York. His government name was Ismail Sanders.
“Yo, don’t touch that fucking TV Lucky!” Supreme mean faced.
Lucky looked at Supreme and then around the room at everyone else and decided he was going to put on a good show while everyone was
looking at him.
“Do you know who I am?” Lucky smirked with his lip turned up like he had tasted something nasty.
“I don’t give a fuck who you are nigga! We’re already watching this channel.” Supreme stood up over the chair that he had been sitting in
backwards, with his legs spread apart.
“What Nigga?” Lucky looked at Supreme, surprised that he was being tested.
“Listen Lucky, I’m not in the mood.” Supreme stated.
“I don’t give a fuck what anybody in this room is watching or in the mood for! I want to watch ‘Law and mother fucking Order’! And if I don’t
get to watch my show I will pour fucking water on the television and nobody will watch shit!” Lucky snapped at Supreme, as he sat down in
a chair with his back to Supreme as if he was no threat at all.
“That’s how you really feel?” Supreme had a sinister sound in his voice.
“That’s what the fuck I said isn’t it?” Lucky turned his head slightly to the right where he could see over his shoulder in Supreme’s direction.
He could only see half of Supreme’s face.
“BET!” Supreme spat as he removed his chair from between his legs and walked towards Lucky as if he was getting ready to handle him.
Lucky jumped up to his feet so that he wasn’t caught off guard. Supreme strangely walked past Lucky and out of the recreation room. Lucky
hadn’t expected that.
“You better step with that bullshit!” Lucky barked at the empty doorway and then looked around the room at everyone else as if to dare any
of them to challenge him.
“Damn he punked the shit out of Preme.” I thought.
“Now, like I said, we will be watching mother fucking ‘Law and Order’.” Lucky felt like the big man of the hour, as he turned the TV channel
and then walked over to a chair and sat down.
Out of no where, Supreme stepped back into the room with a Dixie cup full of water. He looked around until he located Lucky.
“This is for you.” He walked over to the TV and sat the cup on top of it. Then he reached and turned the TV back to BET. He turned
around and looked Lucky in the eyes and said, “Go head nigga, spill that water on that TV and watch what I do to your fucking ass.”
“Nigga what?” Lucky jumped to his feet but never took a step towards Supreme or the TV.
“Like I said, touch that water and see how unlucky you become.” Supreme had a killer face on.
“Yo, you really don’t realize who I am kid!” Lucky was getting angry.
“Listen, I’m not into the small talk. Stop lip boxing and do your thing” Supreme replied.
“I’m not either!” Lucky pounded his chest with an open hand.
“Make your move then.” Supreme dared Lucky.
We all watched in hopes that Lucky would make a move so that we would see Supreme whoop his ass. That never happened because
Supreme walked back to his seat, sat down and began to watch TV with the rest of us. Lucky looked around the room at each of us and
then back at Supreme.
“I didn’t want to watch TV any fucking way.” Lucky mumbled, kicked his chair and then left the room. We heard him tell the guards that he
was going to his cell. I didn’t see Lucky for the rest of the day.
Everyone in the room began to laugh and give Supreme dap. We were all talking about how funny that shit was. Everyone commented on
how they were happy that Supreme had put Lucky in his place. After a while, I got tired of hearing about the incident and watching
everyone ride Supreme’s dick. I decided to take a breather, so I got up and asked one of the guards if I could return to my cell. He gave me
permission and I left the recreation room. When I entered my cell, I realized that my celly hadn’t returned yet. This was my chance to relax
and try to catch up on some much needed sleep. I jumped up onto my bunk, smiled to myself, and laid back to think about everything I’ve
done in my life. I asked myself over and over, how I could have been so stupid that I got myself caught up into some crazy shit that landed
my ass here. I know this might sound crazy but the mother fucking streets are safer when I’m behind these here bars.
| Chapters 1- Doing My Time |
The Author S. C. Dickens
The Cover Up
| The Cover Up |
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