Clayton Returns To Prison And Is Surprised

Story written by Don Roble on Saturday 27, April 2019

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My usual stuff

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Clayton was returning to prison. He had the bad luck to be getting furniture from a store after it had closed. The bad luck was the cops catching him doing it. The judge thought he needed time to reflect on his ways and, also, figure out that his occupation was taking up too much of his free time. Now he was in line to receive his new clothes. He had everything but his shoes. Here is where it got Clayton. If you asked for size 12 you might get size 9. If you asked for size 9 you may get size 7. Clayton took a flier and asked for a 9. As soon as he got them he knew he had a problem He had one of each. Damn it, he’s never get the 7 on his feet. He’d had to make some deal with whoever had the other pair. That never worked out fairly. It wouldn’t. He wasn’t in a monastery. These guys would kill you for mot much reason, if any. Clayton was placed in his cell. The first thing he noticed was the top bunk was filled with the biggest man he had ever seen. Clayton was going to ask him which bunk he preferred, not just because the giant had already chosen but because the giant was going to be the boss in this cell. The prisoners lined up to be checked before getting dinner. His cell mate 275502904 went first. No one was gong to argue with him., not twice. No one was going to check him for weapons either. Not once. The guard told Clayton he was the random choice for a check for contraband. He told Clayton to drop his jumpsuit and assume the position. Clayton was ribber-gloved. It set the mood for lunch although he didn’t know it at the time. Clayton discovered they were having spaghetti. It was usually slimy or barely cooked but it beat the “meat” they got. He tuned to the server and asked where the utensils were. “They’re locked up,” he was told as he gave Clayton a peculiar look. “What good are they doing us then,” Clayton asked. “Who are you? The king of Siam.” Clayton looked for a place to sit. He had the neo-Nazi skin heads on one side; the Black Muslims on the other and the Little Latin Lupe Lu in the middle. He then saw his cellmate sitting by himself. Now he had a life or death decision to make. If he sat with him, and he didn’t want that, Clayton could get hurt, If he didn’t sit with him, and 275502904 thought he was being disrespected, the result would be the same. Oh, Hell, have to do something. He walked over and sat at 275502904’s table. 275502904 immediately reached over and grabbed Rock’s spaghetti with one hand and threw it on his plate. Clayton looked at empty plate. He thought he’d use hie piece of bread and mop up the sauce. Just as he was going to pick it up, his cellmate said to him, “Say, you gonna eat your bread? Be careful where you sit. Some a these guys ‘ll steal your food.” Clayton figured he’d have to eat as much as he could as he walked over to the table. He’d have to leave enough so his cellmate could take it but eat enough to stay alive. In the afternoon, the prisoners were allowed out into the “yard.” It was the highlight of the day. There wasn’t anything much to do out there. There was a volleyball court and a couple of hoops. No one played volleyball after one group turned it into a contact sport. The nets were still there but the ball had disappeared. The guards said they’d find them, They lied. The hoops were well used but Ricky couldn’t play basketball so there was no sense going over there. One team was always black and the other was always Hispanic. Clayton was neither and didn’t think going over was smart. He was smart enough to know that. The scowls he got scared him. He decided to follow around behind one of the guards. He didn’t think anyone would mess with him with a guard right there, Actually, he didn’t know that. He figured the guard would stop anything very quickly. After a few minutes the guard turned to Clayton and asked him,’Why are you following me around. I don’t like it.” “Well”, Clayton replied, “I thought that having you handy would keep these guys away from me.” “It wont. What do you think one unarmed guard is going to do for you? I’m going to call in for help, that what. The big boys will come out and break it up. By then you’d be stomped all over the place.” Well, damn, where was his roomie when he needed him? That might not matter. There was nothing in this for him. Yea, I need to think this through. It didn’t occur to Clayton that not being a thief might be the answer next time. This wasn't next time, though. Clayton gets settled in for the night, he had decided his cellmate wasn’t going to kill him. He actually decided he might but what could he do about it? Just before lights out the cell door opened and a tray of sandwiches was brought in. That was a surprise! You don’t get night snacks and you don’t get then served by the guards. “Say, roomie, I have never heard of guards bringing around snacks at night,” Clayton said, wondering if he’d get one. He doubted it. “That’s because it ain’t the usual thing. This a prison, ya know,” 275502904 told him. “Then why do you get them?” "Because I told the guards that I get hungry at night, That makes me umm, what’s the word? Surly, yea, that’s it – surly. Since I’m serving life without parole I can be as surly as I want. I ain’t never getting’ out no way. Here, have one. One or you’ll make me surly.” Clayton sees huge rat. Jumps and tells cellmate he was going to tell the guards so they can exterminate. Cellmate asked what that means and Clayton explains it. Cellmate says if he does that he’d be killed on the spot. After all, a sentence of life without parole doesn't mean anything to someone serving a sentence of life without parole. “That there rat is my pet. Everyone needs a pet. I can get a new roommate quicker ‘n I can train a new rat.” “I sleep on the bottom bunk. I hate it when someone farts. I heard that gas rises. You don’t want to get a rise out of me. You’re in the top bunk,” his cellmate says. He knew there would be no argument. 275502904 farts. He yells up, “Oh, I forgot to tell you, I fart a lot.” 275502904 is like the guy standing on a cliff a thousand feet up. He looks down and thinks, The first 999 feet can’t hurt me. The last foot, well, how much can a one foot fall hurt. He leaps 275502904 was not smart enough to be stupid.

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    lol See you still have your touch. Nice job.

    Needs a bit of an edit. If you need any help in that area, give me a yell.