From the control station, we could hear the oohs and aahs of surprise from syrupy lines traded between lovers and concubines on the screen. The inmates wore headphones as the televisions had no speakers. The televisions were set up without speakers so as to not wake the other inmates who might be sleeping, but the real reason appeared to be preventing the staff from watching TV. I went across the bay on the giant voice, “It’s not real.” That provoked an inmate to approach the hatch.
“Whachu watchin?”
“You. My girlfriend gets into soaps too.”
Inmates always assume the worst, or try to pick a fight, “You trying to say I’m a bitch or something?”
“I’d never call you that, directly.”
“Whachu mean directly? Whachu trying to say? I’m a cunt or somethin’?”
“Wow, my girlfriend gets all wound up and defensive like that too! She can’t ever let shit go, worrying about every comment.”
The inmate scowled and stalked back to his program, and I returned to my control station conversation. Between the assistant shift supervisor, two housing unit staff, and the external yard officer, we were full of Marines.
“I am a proponent of the pump. I have tried many models, and have subsequently worn out as many.”
“Do they work?”
“WebMD says no, but I can’t say.” “What, is it a secret?”
“No, I’m just not sure. Over the last 20 years, I have gained penile length and girth, but I am not certain if it was from the pump, or from maturity and use in other areas. WebMD claims you can add to the appearance of your length by doing some very simple things.”
“Hey, we’re all ears.”
“First, they recommend losing weight. For every 15 pounds lost, you are supposed to get back half an inch.”
“I guess I could stand to gain a couple inches.” “Then, they claim smoking damages your circulation,
which is vital to full potential blood flow.” “I can see that. Anything else?”
“Yah, but I can’t remember if I read it on WebMD, or if somebody subconsciously planted it in my head.”
“Well, what the fuck is it?” “Tanning.”
“Huh?”
“Yah, tanning. I’ve heard that tanned penises look bigger.”
“Why do you keep using pumps? You’re married, and you have girlfriends.”
“I like the way it feels. The pump works through constant suction.”
“I like the sound of that.” “Well, I like the feel of it.”
“Would you let a hot girl use a strap-on on you?” “Depends how hot. If a girl sits on my face and sucks
my dick real good, and she starts a feelin’ around that hole, I might allow one-knuckle deep with the pinky. But a strap-on? It would have to be Jennifer Aniston or Angelina Jolie. Maybe Brittney Spears before she got stupid and shaved her head, like back when she was singing, Oops, I Did It Again.”
“I got the best one. I was at Brewsky’s on South Street with this chick. I pretended I put a hit out on a chimo who fucked his granddaughters from ages three to 19. I told this chick that I put the hit out because he was bragging about it, wishing he was still doing it. Then I claimed we have this hidden store of goods from our shake downs. I told her we had confiscated quite a bit of dry goods, and non-perishable food items. Then I told her I paid for his beating with two sodas, a box of Twinkies, and a half bag of pretzel sticks. It was not a true story, but I was drunk and I wanted to impress this chick, hoping she would fuck me. The term back-fire would be an understatement. She chewed my ass about, “That’s not your job. You can’t do that!” But later that evening, she fucked me anyway. She mounted me in the back seat of my car. Good thing those seats are vinyl.”
“Oh yah, well I got laid in the Platte River.” “Where and what year?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because if you claim to have done it near your hometown in Columbus in the last two years, you’re a liar. It’s so shallow you could walk across, and you could not conceal anything.”
“Who says I was trying to conceal anything?” “Dude, last time I was in Columbus, I saw this wicked
billboard. Congratulations Platte County! You’re number one in the country! You’re first in alcohol related deaths, and teen-pregnancies in the country! Isn’t that something to be proud of?”
“Oh yah, well I got laid in the Waverly convent house. I was there with my wife for the engaged encounter. We were sent back to her room to discuss our differences on an issue, like the other couples, when my fiancé decided she wanted to fuck. Back then, she was as easy as the Junior Jumble.”
“Ya know, none of this shit could top an inmate story about getting laid in the penitentiary.”
“Provided it was with female staff.”
“Hell, fuckin’ a dude beats all your stories!”
“I can’t believe this shit happens voluntarily! I am familiar with the phenomenon of taking what is available, having spent a great deal of time in the military with nothing available but less than attractive women, but never could I imagine myself taking what’s available when there are NOT ANY women.”
“You say that because you are Catholic.”
“Oh, here we go again with the religion thing. I work with a Seventh Day, a Latter Day, an Atheist, and a non-practicing Catholic. I myself am a Catholic in denial. Perhaps I’ll become Asatru.”
“What do you mean, in denial?”
“I just have some serious problems with it.” “We got a whole shift, Batiste.”
“I’ve been reading this old book, Churches of Today, by some guy named Tomlinson. I laugh every time I open it up, because it’s really old, and it says of Today.”
“You can read, Batiste?”
“Fuck off, man; there are three primary issues I have. First, and foremost, I don’t believe I should be required to confess my sins to a priest. The priest claims that you have to humble yourself in front of another human being in the form of the priest. I just ain’t buying that. If I screw up, I’m just talking to the man. You know, just me and JC. Confessing to a priest is like smoking with a filter. I just don’t feel like it gets the job done.”
“What else?”
“Well, why should I have to go to mass every Sunday, plus the other holy days of obligation? Sometimes, I just get tired of this shit. I’m beginning to think that Catholicism is just an indoctrination into guilt and fear. I don’t want to feel guilty and afraid all the time. It sucks.”
“You’re right. So what’s the third thing?”
“When the priest says he turns the wine and the wafer into the real blood and body of JC. He ain’t really doing that. It’s a good representation, but I ain’t buying it.”
“He actually told you that when he rings the bells, the wafer actually becomes The Flesh?”
“Yes.”
“Then can he not ring the bells when I’m up here?” “Dude, you’re weeding out accountability, and you’re
not in denial, you just ain’t Catholic.”
“Blood from the non-believers will rain from the sky!” “So, go back to the Asatru thing. What’s the attraction there, or were you just spitting out the first religious group
you could think of?”
“How many people do you know that are Asatru on the outside?”
“I wonder, is there a high percentage of criminal activity within the Asatru ranks, and does the religion attract people with criminal minds, or is there a high percentage of criminals drawn to the Asatru religion after they become criminals? What are the implications regarding those beliefs? If you are a person who believes as the Asatru, but you live an honest life with integrity and credibility, how would you feel? It is pretty obvious that a large percentage of inmates were not Asatru prior to their incarceration. That argument is settled by studying their inmate records. I wonder how many stay with it upon discharge. Do they regret their name changes as well? What is the draw? What privileges are gained in prison? They do not smoke a piece pipe like the Native Americans at the Sweat Lodge claim.”
“That’s some heavy shit Batiste, but, can we talk about getting laid some more?”
Jeremiah 20: 7-9
A reading from the Book of the Prophet Jeremiah:
7O LORD, thou hast deceived me, and I was deceived; thou art stronger than I, and hast prevailed: I am in derision daily, every one mocketh me.
8For since I spake, I cried out, I cried violence and spoil; because the word of the LORD was made a reproach unto me, and a derision, daily.
9Then I said, I will not make mention of him, nor speak any more in his name. But his word was in mine heart as a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I was weary with forbearing, and I could not stay.
My fantasies quickly turned to my sister’s classmates who were three years older. My sister was popular, and she was an athlete. Her friends were cheerleaders and track stars. If I could have MacGyver-ed hidden cameras back then, I sure as hell would have planted them on the eve of their slumber parties. In my dreams, one of them always drunkenly stumbles into my room, and climbs in bed with me with nothing but a thong. Even dreaming, I was fairly docile…until they passed out.
“I can make up some shit if it makes you feel better.”
“Whachu watchin?”
“You. My girlfriend gets into soaps too.”
Inmates always assume the worst, or try to pick a fight, “You trying to say I’m a bitch or something?”
“I’d never call you that, directly.”
“Whachu mean directly? Whachu trying to say? I’m a cunt or somethin’?”
“Wow, my girlfriend gets all wound up and defensive like that too! She can’t ever let shit go, worrying about every comment.”
The inmate scowled and stalked back to his program, and I returned to my control station conversation. Between the assistant shift supervisor, two housing unit staff, and the external yard officer, we were full of Marines.
“I am a proponent of the pump. I have tried many models, and have subsequently worn out as many.”
“Do they work?”
“WebMD says no, but I can’t say.” “What, is it a secret?”
“No, I’m just not sure. Over the last 20 years, I have gained penile length and girth, but I am not certain if it was from the pump, or from maturity and use in other areas. WebMD claims you can add to the appearance of your length by doing some very simple things.”
“Hey, we’re all ears.”
“First, they recommend losing weight. For every 15 pounds lost, you are supposed to get back half an inch.”
“I guess I could stand to gain a couple inches.” “Then, they claim smoking damages your circulation,
which is vital to full potential blood flow.” “I can see that. Anything else?”
“Yah, but I can’t remember if I read it on WebMD, or if somebody subconsciously planted it in my head.”
“Well, what the fuck is it?” “Tanning.”
“Huh?”
“Yah, tanning. I’ve heard that tanned penises look bigger.”
“Why do you keep using pumps? You’re married, and you have girlfriends.”
“I like the way it feels. The pump works through constant suction.”
“I like the sound of that.” “Well, I like the feel of it.”
“Would you let a hot girl use a strap-on on you?” “Depends how hot. If a girl sits on my face and sucks
my dick real good, and she starts a feelin’ around that hole, I might allow one-knuckle deep with the pinky. But a strap-on? It would have to be Jennifer Aniston or Angelina Jolie. Maybe Brittney Spears before she got stupid and shaved her head, like back when she was singing, Oops, I Did It Again.”
“I got the best one. I was at Brewsky’s on South Street with this chick. I pretended I put a hit out on a chimo who fucked his granddaughters from ages three to 19. I told this chick that I put the hit out because he was bragging about it, wishing he was still doing it. Then I claimed we have this hidden store of goods from our shake downs. I told her we had confiscated quite a bit of dry goods, and non-perishable food items. Then I told her I paid for his beating with two sodas, a box of Twinkies, and a half bag of pretzel sticks. It was not a true story, but I was drunk and I wanted to impress this chick, hoping she would fuck me. The term back-fire would be an understatement. She chewed my ass about, “That’s not your job. You can’t do that!” But later that evening, she fucked me anyway. She mounted me in the back seat of my car. Good thing those seats are vinyl.”
“Oh yah, well I got laid in the Platte River.” “Where and what year?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because if you claim to have done it near your hometown in Columbus in the last two years, you’re a liar. It’s so shallow you could walk across, and you could not conceal anything.”
“Who says I was trying to conceal anything?” “Dude, last time I was in Columbus, I saw this wicked
billboard. Congratulations Platte County! You’re number one in the country! You’re first in alcohol related deaths, and teen-pregnancies in the country! Isn’t that something to be proud of?”
“Oh yah, well I got laid in the Waverly convent house. I was there with my wife for the engaged encounter. We were sent back to her room to discuss our differences on an issue, like the other couples, when my fiancé decided she wanted to fuck. Back then, she was as easy as the Junior Jumble.”
“Ya know, none of this shit could top an inmate story about getting laid in the penitentiary.”
“Provided it was with female staff.”
“Hell, fuckin’ a dude beats all your stories!”
“I can’t believe this shit happens voluntarily! I am familiar with the phenomenon of taking what is available, having spent a great deal of time in the military with nothing available but less than attractive women, but never could I imagine myself taking what’s available when there are NOT ANY women.”
“You say that because you are Catholic.”
“Oh, here we go again with the religion thing. I work with a Seventh Day, a Latter Day, an Atheist, and a non-practicing Catholic. I myself am a Catholic in denial. Perhaps I’ll become Asatru.”
“What do you mean, in denial?”
“I just have some serious problems with it.” “We got a whole shift, Batiste.”
“I’ve been reading this old book, Churches of Today, by some guy named Tomlinson. I laugh every time I open it up, because it’s really old, and it says of Today.”
“You can read, Batiste?”
“Fuck off, man; there are three primary issues I have. First, and foremost, I don’t believe I should be required to confess my sins to a priest. The priest claims that you have to humble yourself in front of another human being in the form of the priest. I just ain’t buying that. If I screw up, I’m just talking to the man. You know, just me and JC. Confessing to a priest is like smoking with a filter. I just don’t feel like it gets the job done.”
“What else?”
“Well, why should I have to go to mass every Sunday, plus the other holy days of obligation? Sometimes, I just get tired of this shit. I’m beginning to think that Catholicism is just an indoctrination into guilt and fear. I don’t want to feel guilty and afraid all the time. It sucks.”
“You’re right. So what’s the third thing?”
“When the priest says he turns the wine and the wafer into the real blood and body of JC. He ain’t really doing that. It’s a good representation, but I ain’t buying it.”
“He actually told you that when he rings the bells, the wafer actually becomes The Flesh?”
“Yes.”
“Then can he not ring the bells when I’m up here?” “Dude, you’re weeding out accountability, and you’re
not in denial, you just ain’t Catholic.”
“Blood from the non-believers will rain from the sky!” “So, go back to the Asatru thing. What’s the attraction there, or were you just spitting out the first religious group
you could think of?”
“How many people do you know that are Asatru on the outside?”
“I wonder, is there a high percentage of criminal activity within the Asatru ranks, and does the religion attract people with criminal minds, or is there a high percentage of criminals drawn to the Asatru religion after they become criminals? What are the implications regarding those beliefs? If you are a person who believes as the Asatru, but you live an honest life with integrity and credibility, how would you feel? It is pretty obvious that a large percentage of inmates were not Asatru prior to their incarceration. That argument is settled by studying their inmate records. I wonder how many stay with it upon discharge. Do they regret their name changes as well? What is the draw? What privileges are gained in prison? They do not smoke a piece pipe like the Native Americans at the Sweat Lodge claim.”
“That’s some heavy shit Batiste, but, can we talk about getting laid some more?”
Jeremiah 20: 7-9
A reading from the Book of the Prophet Jeremiah:
7O LORD, thou hast deceived me, and I was deceived; thou art stronger than I, and hast prevailed: I am in derision daily, every one mocketh me.
8For since I spake, I cried out, I cried violence and spoil; because the word of the LORD was made a reproach unto me, and a derision, daily.
9Then I said, I will not make mention of him, nor speak any more in his name. But his word was in mine heart as a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I was weary with forbearing, and I could not stay.
My fantasies quickly turned to my sister’s classmates who were three years older. My sister was popular, and she was an athlete. Her friends were cheerleaders and track stars. If I could have MacGyver-ed hidden cameras back then, I sure as hell would have planted them on the eve of their slumber parties. In my dreams, one of them always drunkenly stumbles into my room, and climbs in bed with me with nothing but a thong. Even dreaming, I was fairly docile…until they passed out.
“I can make up some shit if it makes you feel better.”
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