As housing unit staff and custody staff, we are supposed to scan the inmate’s outgoing mail for threats, escape plans, and the like. On occasion we happen to turn up some interesting fabrications.
I have seen many inmates write home trying to make their family think they really have it rough. They make up shit from getting shot at by guards as if they are ducks on a shooting gallery to having to defend themselves daily just to keep their shoes from big black guys running around with their dicks hanging out.
Then I read a letter from an inmate to his mother. He missed her and how close they were. They were really close; I mean really close. The things he mentioned that he missed doing with his mother were more than I get from my wife and girlfriends combined. His closing was, “I can’t wait to pee in your butt again.” I had always wanted to try that, but I really did not think it was possible. I mean, having an erection, and peeing at the same time under very constricted conditions. It was pretty disgusting reading about it. Especially with his mother.
We had an old grandpa by the name of Frewsburg in the unit who could not read or write. This was not uncommon. If you think about all the different things that could land you in prison, and the skills you might want that could keep you out of prison, the pool of inmates would naturally have a higher percentage of non-readers. I do not know how that makes sense, but it does. Frewsburg recruited his bunkee to write letters home for him. His younger bunkee did not always write what he was told. Frewsburg was nicknamed “Yoda.” He made several statements that sounded like Yoda from Star Wars, and his posture and hairy ears gave him the physical resemblance as well.
The young perp would add some very perverted comments for his own pleasure, thinking of the shock value it would provide upon arrival at the home of Frewsburg’s spouse. Yoda’s wife must have caught on, because her replies began to reflect an occasional positive response to the unexpected orneriness. The whole unit knew what was up except Frewsburg.
With my sympathetic nature for guys who do not get laid, I am ashamed to admit this next bit of letter writing humor. Inmate Dubry was a con man. He was in for a short time, and would soon be heading off to work release, but he could not help screwing with people before his departure. When Dubry was back at the DEC, he convinced one guy that he could take his place as the lifeguard at LCC’s pool, if he would just write a kite to the rec specialist. Dubry was not the lifeguard at LCC’s pool. The rec specialist was not looking to replace a lifeguard at the pool. LCC had no pool. Dubry would help him with the words. He had to write that he could hold his breath for two minutes, would willingly wear the Speedos, and was CPR qualified.
Dubry hooked up a guy with an imaginary girl. Carlton Honeycutt asked Dubry to hook him up when he noticed the amount of attention Dubry receive via mail. The “Girl” Dubry invented did not want to give up an address immediately, so he had to give the letters to Dubry and receive from Dubry. Dubry wrote some crazy shit pretending to be this imaginary girl. Reading Carlton’s return letters at night to his celly was his evening’s entertainment. He had Carlton saying that he was willing to take big black dildos in his ass while getting a Boston Steamer. Carlton asked her to be gentle, as he had never done anything like it before.
“Anybody who gets between them is just gonna wind up with a hose full of piss running down their leg.”
I have seen many inmates write home trying to make their family think they really have it rough. They make up shit from getting shot at by guards as if they are ducks on a shooting gallery to having to defend themselves daily just to keep their shoes from big black guys running around with their dicks hanging out.
Then I read a letter from an inmate to his mother. He missed her and how close they were. They were really close; I mean really close. The things he mentioned that he missed doing with his mother were more than I get from my wife and girlfriends combined. His closing was, “I can’t wait to pee in your butt again.” I had always wanted to try that, but I really did not think it was possible. I mean, having an erection, and peeing at the same time under very constricted conditions. It was pretty disgusting reading about it. Especially with his mother.
We had an old grandpa by the name of Frewsburg in the unit who could not read or write. This was not uncommon. If you think about all the different things that could land you in prison, and the skills you might want that could keep you out of prison, the pool of inmates would naturally have a higher percentage of non-readers. I do not know how that makes sense, but it does. Frewsburg recruited his bunkee to write letters home for him. His younger bunkee did not always write what he was told. Frewsburg was nicknamed “Yoda.” He made several statements that sounded like Yoda from Star Wars, and his posture and hairy ears gave him the physical resemblance as well.
The young perp would add some very perverted comments for his own pleasure, thinking of the shock value it would provide upon arrival at the home of Frewsburg’s spouse. Yoda’s wife must have caught on, because her replies began to reflect an occasional positive response to the unexpected orneriness. The whole unit knew what was up except Frewsburg.
With my sympathetic nature for guys who do not get laid, I am ashamed to admit this next bit of letter writing humor. Inmate Dubry was a con man. He was in for a short time, and would soon be heading off to work release, but he could not help screwing with people before his departure. When Dubry was back at the DEC, he convinced one guy that he could take his place as the lifeguard at LCC’s pool, if he would just write a kite to the rec specialist. Dubry was not the lifeguard at LCC’s pool. The rec specialist was not looking to replace a lifeguard at the pool. LCC had no pool. Dubry would help him with the words. He had to write that he could hold his breath for two minutes, would willingly wear the Speedos, and was CPR qualified.
Dubry hooked up a guy with an imaginary girl. Carlton Honeycutt asked Dubry to hook him up when he noticed the amount of attention Dubry receive via mail. The “Girl” Dubry invented did not want to give up an address immediately, so he had to give the letters to Dubry and receive from Dubry. Dubry wrote some crazy shit pretending to be this imaginary girl. Reading Carlton’s return letters at night to his celly was his evening’s entertainment. He had Carlton saying that he was willing to take big black dildos in his ass while getting a Boston Steamer. Carlton asked her to be gentle, as he had never done anything like it before.
“Anybody who gets between them is just gonna wind up with a hose full of piss running down their leg.”
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