Chapter One of Ruby Slippers

Ruby Slippers1

Historical Fiction2

Chapter one3

Lions, Tigers and Bears--- oh my--- God4

I heard two, loud, profound, thumps in the background as I lay in my bed barely holding on to earth. The Devil stretched his arms out like I were his new born child. At that point in my life I was a barely breathing human corpse. There was another, brief moment of consciousness as my door was broken down but I lay completely still. I do, actually, remember hearing the screeches but I was battling hibernation. I usually spent four hours awake and the rest of my day spent in deep sleep. I had bruises all over me from my boyfriend beating me and trying to wake the dragon of narcotics which held me tight. My partner remained asleep too, but he had a reason to sleep. He had just finished work and thus, we both slept as the door was broken through. Despite who was breaking in, I had a person who guarded me with his life. He slept in the main room which was next to the door. I know most people who have such jobs as mine do not need to hire people for protection, but they, instead, carry their own gun and all other lethal items with them. I wasn’t that type of guy, and to be more specific, it would be impossible to label me because I was like ‘Jackal and Hyde’. Sometimes I surprised myself with my own doings. I could be crazy mad and paranoid; I would subtly assess my surroundings and analyzed to the point of unhealthy thinking. I could become paranoid beyond belief and the slightest movement I took into consideration. In addition, I had a thing for mirror sunglasses and I wore them day and night. It was part of the paranoia and intellect I had to battle. Nobody knew where I was looking and I loved that. I was fearful of eye contact when I was not wearing the shades. I believe you can read a person’s soul through their eyes, and without shades I avoided eye contact and was nervously jumpy. My obsession with this was abnormal, and I do acknowledge the awkward situation it often puts on me. 5

However, sometimes I could be what is considered or defined as normal. At times I could talk with little concern and be confident with myself. I would chuckle and let problems roll off my back. It usually did not last long but like I said, it was a ‘Jackal and Hyde’ life.6

~ ~ ~7

The two of us made a deal in prison that ensured my safety inside the prison and outside. Of course, he wasn’t doing it because he was concerned citizen of the jail. He would do this in exchange for a ticket out of prison. He had 7 years minimum. I thought that this “business” transaction was in my favor. There were a few times it came to a close call but he watched over me. Nobody would pick a fight with him. His Orc like fingers would strangle you, and he could easily crush fingers, and his fists that were sure to knock a tooth out or give a bloody nose, his dark brown eyes always shuffling the prisons yard. Amazingly perceptive and even if he looked like he wasn’t paying attention, I came to find out he was very attentive. He was my guard dog. He was an alligator waiting to snap. However, after I made this partnership I began to think the deal was a mistake. He was not one of the constant fighters nor did he involve himself in misdoings. This should be a good quality but I wanted somebody ruthless. He held his temper and I believed him to be wiser than his 40 cigarettes that attributed to his wrinkled face and dropping chin. Although, he never laughed, never smiled, and never joked I think he found humanity interesting and humorous. All day he just sat on a bench while he rested his heavy body, his eyes only slightly open as he got a bit of rest, and if the clouds blocked the surging of hells spot light he would kind of kick back and enjoy the shade. In a way It was like a television show. Everybody knows jail is bad but try it for one day. The guards were abusive and so many illegal things they participated on… I cannot count. I had extra privileges because I was leaving soon and they didn’t want me to tell the senator what really went on in a jail. Anyways, he looked comfortable when one of his buddies came by, and he was very attentive. He became what I only describe as “alive”. It was as if I saw him through antique glass. Do you know what I mean?8

I remember one dark day, cool weather, and there was a pleasant breeze. I sat where I always sat reading my books. Sadly there were no old oak trees to lie back on and kick your shoes off. It kept getting darker and I was waiting for lighting to strike me. I was ready for a broken nose and a bruised black eye as a few people came towards me and I was intimidated. I was sitting alone and reading a book as contently as possible. There were no leaves falling from the heavens, there was no pond or lake to gaze upon. There were no sight of blooming magnolia bushes or Tulips, nor was there any grass. No, that would be a fairytale. In reality it was just 6 African Americans with grins on their faces. I found it disturbing that they were smiling. Usually when you slice a person’s throat or get in a car accident; you don’t smile. As I looked up from my book I tried not to act scared. When you smell fear from another person, you go up in flames faster.9

As they approached, all were black, and a funny thought came to my mind, a thought not appropriate for such a situation. They thought integration of schools was bad! What about prisons? African Americans approached me on a bench. They all had gold teeth with tattoos on every inch of their body. They circled me. 10

“I am going to get some water and I’ll be right back,” I said rather sarcastically because I knew what was going to happen as did they. They were going to beat me and knock me to the moon. I stood up from the bench but was firmly pushed back down.11

“The damn nigger thinks were that stupid,” said one of them that was followed by my hand wiping his spit from my face. I had always been afraid of the word nigger. It was a word that I saw no benefit in repeating, because of the given past heritage the word had. Nevertheless, it was a key to a verbal conversation or so I came to find. The very root of the word brings chills throughout my pasty white skin. However, they thought nothing of it when talking to each other. It had developed into a “cool” word.12

“ Kinda cold out here.” The same person as before spoke and I assumed he was King of the Jungle. I didn’t answer and that was not satisfactory. He screamed at me “kinda cold outside!”13

“Yes,” I said as I acknowledged for the first time the freezing temperatures and I started to shake from my toes as the chill gradually saturated my face and muscle spasms broke out across my body. It was the power of persuasion that had gotten to me.14

My body turned frozen with anticipation of what would happen next. They were intimidating and I was on the verge of collapsing as I became dizzy. I have never been in a fight with anybody and I didn’t want to start, especially with a man twice my size and who knows how many hours in the gym.15

Suddenly a shadow crept, blocking the little sunlight from behind me. There was somebody behind me and based on the shadow size, I hadn’t any chance. I just sat there, knowing a swift punch to the back of my head was my fate. I closed my eyes. There was nothing I could do but wait for the firm blow. I started praying which I only resort to in bad situations. Suddenly and surprisingly I heard Butch’s voice from behind and, relief swam warmly through my frozen veins and created condensation on my forehead. Nevertheless, my anxiety was still spilling into gutters. It reminded me, as I backtracked through my life, of reading children stories that scared me because I was just a little kid but I loved being read too. My dad would read books as well as my mom. It was probably the best part of my pathetic life. As my mom and dad held me in his lap so long ago, I am sure he would never have thought my life would be like this. He would have never foreseen me here, a mockery and pile of misery.16

“Do not give my boy a hard time. He took out a switch blade. “Which one of you should I kill first?” Like little roaches the black posy backed off and that included the intimating leader. How Butch got a weapon, I don’t know. I did not know what the hell he was doing with that. I can get him out of 7 years and no more. The last thing he needed or wanted was another conviction. The next thought that came to my mind was that perhaps he thought since he was going to be a free man, soon and, no rules applied to him in jail-yard. He would be out of jail, and thus could reign notoriously and ignore policy with arrogance. Nevertheless, thankfully he was a man with character. I looked at the blade and shuttered. I didn’t want to be involved in anybody’s death. I noticed the pathetically morbid humor in my very own thoughts.17

I exclaimed” I’m all right,” like anybody gave a damn. The Black guys went and sat on a bench and stared at me. I pretended they were looking at me because of the cute little orange jumpsuit I was in. Well, okay I tease, and I shouldn’t because there was rape, murder, and drugs every day. Butch would tell me about it at night in the penthouse suite. Jail was like heaven for the poor, the addicted, the abused- a heaven. They were all worried about taking care of themselves and I cannot blame them. I was worried about my fate and not somebody else’s doing. My desire to live began to dwindled as a frighteningly fast pace. 18

They nicknamed me several different catch phrases. However, the most treacherous name of all was the “untouchable,” because it encouraged efforts. After the incident concerning Butch and the black guys, the guards kept an eye on me. President Bush couldn’t be safer than me in this fort. The guards even followed me around and stood behind me when I showered. They constantly checked on Butch and me at night. I continued to hated my life along with my sagging heart of hope. I hadn’t been taking my medicine and I was quite ill but there was nothing I could do.19

One day, the next day, the same day. Time was irrelevant and the only means of time was where the sun was at. I was content with not knowing the day because it was just completely depressing.20

I stretched from the second bunk and finally got a knotted bed sheet around it and tightened it. A guard walked by at the wrong time, or right time, depending how you look at it, and I was trying to make it manageable. However, I started crying when the guard saw me but only for a moment because, I fainted, fell from the second bunk and hit the floor with a thud. The last thought I had was I had many more teary confrontations to go. Life.21

After I got stitches on my head, it was ruled that I needed to be more twisted in order to get to stay on this unit and after assessing me; I was going to back to the main prison. The doctors put me back on my medicine so I was feeling a little better. I barely remember what happened after I hit my head. This hospital wing was on the top floor and I got the joy of looking, from a distance, outside. There were no bars and the hospital staff was made up of a bunch of idiots with one person who could do their job correctly$.” I’ll tell you boy’ there is a need for nurses. Good payn to.” I was shortly shipped back to my concrete floor, my cell. After that occurrence the doctor visited me every day and placing me back on my original medication seemed to show improvement. Nevertheless, I was very sick and he was preparing to move me to the medical ward again because I was the steam from a teapot, just screaming to burst. I stopped eating and going outside. Life is not fair- never has been. 22

I saw an inmate reading the bible and I had to keep my fingers from tearing out every page. I once believed in God. I once believed in the tooth fairy. I once believed in Santa. So what should I say? Nothing about that.23

A great wave of men in prison picked up the bible. That made me mad at the God that does not exist in my mind. Even HE knew life was not fair from personal experience. As I thought atheism consumed my mind. I spent a lot of time analyzing religion. Atheism also consumed my time as I read and discredited the various parts of the bible which people turned too, Jesus, God, The Holy Spirit. Through my narrow eyes this idea slowly dwindled. I was not sure if I could believe and go running after a fairy tale? Is God as likely as Santa Clause? For goodness sakes, the first chapter of the bible would be a classic story passed from one generation to another. Problem is I cannot touch a coal without being burned. Of course, that is standard knowledge, and shown through the tenacity of my narrow eyes. One thing that ticked me off and I actually once believed Genesis was a more of a poem than actual fact. However, if we could conclude the first chapter of the bible to be a poem how do we know the rest is accurate and truthful, and a solid book of facts. Yet, I ask you why would God place a tree that he didn’t want anybody to touch. Was he experimenting what trees he wanted on the earth and what really eats me up; he puts a tree in the middle of this paradise and told no Adam and Eve not to touch it. It really just annoys me. 24

“Ya say there is a God?” Let me think about that. 25

“It is worth a thought, I must admit”26

You must pull your weight in this fighting world but I was ready to give up. Some people have porches, some people have Mercedes, some people have a mustang, some people have a Saturn and some people have a car that needs fix’n every ten miles. I would like life to be fair for every. Lets change the government to communism, wouldn’t that be a kick.27

I have my doubts, wishes, and suspicions as does everybody at my age, 21. I have found that people believe there is something powerful out there but that is as far they go. This interests me. Did I put myself in this jail while HE watched intensely? Whoever HE was?28

After chasing off the coyotes Butch spoke up and said, “I cannot always do it by myself and so I had to call some friend he nodded to a few men who had their eyes focused on Butch and I. I need these three to help me protect you. Can you get them out of jail? I hesitated to answer the question while I put my words tactfully together... I couldn’t ask that 4 prisoners be released. The senator was already ticked off that he had to get me out of this shit hole.29

“I cannot get but one person out of jail and Butch, you have your eyes on that prize. However, I recognized his concerns were a literal truth. Thus, I offered them a deal. I said, “The day I leave I will make sure each of you receive 10,000 dollars. I would love to get all of you out of here but the politicians do not want any negative attention and letting four people out of jail would get a lot of attention and suspicion. “What if he doesn’t give us the 10g’s? “ one asked30

“We can trust him,” Butch insisted very solemnly. Butch was a very intelligent man but refused to talk about his own doings that got him in the mess he was in. I don’t know if it were shame, or simply the agony of repeating a story of bad memories once again. Yet, there were other things to talk about to consume time. Everything from lost lovers, lost children, to the comfortable weather and other aversions we danced in. The lack of intellectuality of the conversation made me feel a little bored as if I were sitting under an ld tree as one apple after another falls on my head. Stories were frequently used to pass the time and I did enjoy them but the repetition grew into monotony to the point I would play with the gum in my mouth. I became a regular at spades and I was good at it. With all the mental facilities I have been in, I had gotten quite good. I also read book after book, trying to numb the pain. Do not misunderstand. There were many different activities but I chose to be by myself except one day when a dart board collected a lot of attention. In the background as I struggled to concentrate a few people played dominos and one thing I could not stand, each time they played a piece of dominos, they would slam their pieces down as hard as they could. Is it an expression of manhood? What the hell. 31

I was going nuts. My medicine made me feel better. Yet, it hadn’t fully kicked in and I had waves of depressions. I usually just lay in bed sleeping the time away. Since the hanging they posted a guard outside my cell. Was the senator going to come for me this time? It was constantly on my mind. 32

Most people found games and exercise in the gym to pass time up and I cared for neither. One day, when no domino playing was going on, I walked over to a group of men playing darts. It was a handmade dart board with circles drawn one after another, obviously done by a compass. I watched them throw dart after dart and grew bored with the game quite quickly. However, without even realizing it, I muttered under my breath, “God damn this is lame.” Another man was standing by me and I was completely flabbergasted that he heard what I said.33

He spoke, “Ya, not much of a fan either.” I turned towards him. “Max,” I said shaking his hand. “Scott,” he replied. I could tell by the very start that he was an intelligent man.34

From that day on the two of us would sit down, talk, and smoke our lives away. He was35

the only person who could communicate without having trouble understanding. He was a doctor who killed his patients on purpose, but he justified it by explaining they were in agonizing pain and they wanted to leave this world. “I have no remorse for what I have done.” He said and I snapped at him, “I don’t judge.” I kept my personal thoughts a secret and that was that. I do not consider it killing when terminal patients are allowed to abandon the fear and the pain. I’m not sure with all this hip “new age thinking”? I ask you reader, “What do you think?” 36

Nevertheless, Scott looked like a murderer without hair. A pair of glasses rested firmly on his small bunny nose. He was a rotund man with a belly he could easily rest a book on and continue to read. His grey beard tossed and turned in the heavy wind. His clothing, an orange jumpsuit, looked like it was especially fashioned for him. We usually talked about philosophy, the world, and the questions that consumed both our minds. 37

One day, taking a 360, he turned the questions to me I had been avoiding. “Why are you in here?” he asked.38

“Selling and smuggling in drugs,” I said, “However, I was caught on my third DWI.” That and a few other charges were thrown my way.39

“So that is how you get your money, selling drugs” Scott laughed and changed the subject completely. “If you notice, there are some people wearing coats. That’s to hide the weapons they have created. I looked around and spotted a few. 40

“hmmmm…” I said out load with a different topic on my mind.41

I didn’t want to tell the truth that I made a large business out of drugs because I was afraid of the repercussions in the priso$n as everybody would have their eye on me, a walking, talking, dollar sign. I didn’t want word getting out that I had money. You would be surprised how careful I was when I bought from the jail’s store that prisoners had access to and I made it appear as if I got the money from my parents. That is a “yes,” there is a store in the jail that has just about everything you need to survive on. Most of the prisons get smokes from the clerk passing out cigarettes by the handful. 42

Scott and I were sitting together contemplating life one day. Sometimes, I must admit, it was enjoyable to be free from the world and locked up. I had no responsibilities, and didn’t have to worry about where a meal was going to come from or planning my day. I was like a cat or dog. I stopped following the news or counting the days gone by. I guess I stopped because it depressed me, but also, who really cared. I had no appointments. 43

“Hey Scott,” I said, “Sometimes I wonder why I- you- we live. What is the meaning of all of this?” “I feel lost in a concrete world.” 44

“Concrete! Well that’s the first thing you need to get out of your mind. Everything in your world is concrete.”45

“No,” I laughed, “It was a joke but you know what I mean.” I prompted him to reply.46

“Well, everybody seems to enjoy living and have a chip placed in their head that allows them to live what I would consider a pathetic existence but if they feel comfortable about than I’m all for it. We all have different chips in our heads that program us the way are. Even the people who are really dumb in the yard can find meaning in life and are able to overcome their challenges. Perhaps not the same challenges we overcome but it is on the same level.”47

“I don’t know what to tell you. I have found peace with my life.” He said48

“How did you do this?” I asked while my eyes looked deeply into his as if there were a glimmer of hope I could find what he had buried deep with his eyes.49

“I do not know how to explain it. You just have to be happy with the good choices you have made and acknowledge the bad ones and somewhere in that rubble you will find yourself.”50

“It just bothers me,” I said with a sigh.51

“You are just a young kid; you got a ways to go to find that.”52

“Ya I suppose.”53

“Do you have anybody you love?” I asked randomly.54

“I got my children, my mom- dad passed away, and my sister who lives in Wisconsin.” Scott paused and continued with a tone of frustration, “They sometimes come visit me.” I didn’t want to press further as I saw how bothered he was by the mention of them. It was then that I realized most of the inmates had nobody in their life and a single tear ran down my face and I don’t know why. I flicked the tear off like a mosquito and resumed the conversation in a very nonchalant manner.55

“I miss music,” I said not with the ambition of changing the conversation but my eyes rested on a radio. “A radio just is not the same as listening to what I love.”56

“I know what you mean,” he replied, “I love Jazz.”57

“Ya, me too. Jazz and a few particular bands.” We talked about music for a while. He apparently could play the saxophone quite well. Sadly, he hadn’t heard of any of my bands but I promised him that he would one day. We both hated the musicians who were placing albums out that were full of junk and the little kids that buy it, not to mention the grown men and women who listened to the trashy music. We both agreed that the appreciation of true music was on the down turn.58

“So when will you be released?” He asked me suddenly.59

“Not a day goes by that I fear I have been forgotten, but it will come through. I just got - - -”60

“See that guy over there,” Scott nodded his head in the direction as he interrupted me and turned his focus elsewhere. My eyes, were gazed into the heavens, but as I refocused them, on a tall middle age man who had bruises all over his body.61

“What about him?” I asked?62

“He is a doctor too- drugs.”63

“hmmmm, interesting but not surprising most of the people here did drug.”64

“Well,” Scott continued, “He also likes young girls, and I am surprised he is still alive. He has been beaten up so many times and raped. Some guards let them beat him until the point of death.” I one time saw him completely torn apart and thought there was no way he would make it. They beat him to near death and his left eye no longer functions correctly.”65

“That is a bit sad,” I said sympathetically with eyebrows climbing my forehead. 66

“Should we invite him over here?” I asked.67

“Not unless you want trouble.” I grunted and leaned my head and lay comfortably on the stone bleachers, staring once more into the heavens.68

“So is there an afterlife?”69

“I hope so,” Scott replied. “Even if there isn’t, wouldn’t you rather be safe in case he does exist. That is kinda how I look at it. Better to be safe than to be sorry.”70

“Isn’t that like cheating? I mean, there is a God or there isn’t one. However, I think you must fully believe in him and Jesus and all that stuff…” I paused. “I don’t know what the hell I am talking about I admitted, but better to be safe than sorry.”71

“Ya, isn’t that the slogan for teens and condoms. Better to be safe than sorry.” We both laughed.72

“Yes, and also look where our love of great philosophers has gotten us,” I grinned and he laughed.73

“Hey you read any of those books that I gave you?” I asked not expecting much.74

“Ya, I am almost done with Walden,” He smiled and winked at me. “You didn’t think I would read them did you?” he said.75

I laughed and said, “No I didn’t expect you to read them.” There was a pause in the conversation and I snapped back into concentration. “What do you think of the book?”76

“You gave me some good books,” he said with a nod. “Walden is wonderful and I admire him, I must admit,” Scott said as he rearranged himself on the bleachers. “My favorite quote from Walden is, ‘True knowledge is knowing what you do not know.’” What a-77

He interrupted me again. He had that problem and I hated how often he interrupted me but I lived with it. 78

“I didn’t know good ol’ ozzy was back.” Once again I lifted my head and looked around. There was one hell of a buff man, tall too, with one of the most furious and menacing faces I had ever seen. It looked like he was sent from hell. He was punching a guard in the stomach until the guard collapsed. I watched with interest and I was embarrassed and ashamed that I found interest in the fight. It is like admitting you watch ‘Jerry Springer’. That is what prison does to you, I suppose. Yet, this didn’t keep my eyes from eating up the thrilling excitement. I watched as he went after another guard who used mace on him but this didn’t stop Ozzy who beat the guard. The guard was trying to get out his gun but Ozzy overwhelmed him. From nowhere came a high powered water hose and four guards who fought with Ozzy and overcame him. Next, they took out their sticks and beat him. They over did it but nothing surprised me anymore. Finally, he was carried to the hospital part of the ward. Of course, the guards were pampered first, before the prison scum. Meanwhile, Ozzy was turning the grass red.79

“What was that all about?” I asked after the show had ended. 80

Scott shook his head, “He is going to get killed one of these times or put in seclusion permanently. I have seen him do that two separate times. He attacks the guards when he gets angry and then he is beaten to ashes. From there he goes to the hospitals and when he recovers he comes back out and does the exact same thing. 81

“Mental illness to some degree,” I said.82

“Yup,” Scott crossed his arms.83

On a Tuesday afternoon several officers came out and walked towards Scott and me. We were playing chess. We were pretty well matched and every now and then we put a little money in the game. Scott pointed behind me subtly with a head nod and gesture of him eyes and I turned around to see several men approaching us. My eyes boiled with excitement. Two men in suites, a police officer, and the captain were heading my way, the senator not far behind. As they reached my bench, the warden gestured me to come forward. “Butch,” I looked frantically for him and spotting him over my shoulder, I remember I shouted. “I’ll get you out of here,” and he replied with a nod. Then I turned to Scott and said, “I’ll never forget you Scott.” 84

“Dido Max.” He smiled and lit a smoke.85

For a moment I didn’t know how to respond as I got up and approached. After briefly eyeing each other, I shook hands firmly with the senator and someone else who I assumed was his aid. As I did this I realized everybody around kept their eyes glued on my every move. It was probably at a point in which I realized something that was rather discouraging. My money and power that I held in my hand was substantial and I was getting what every convict dreamed of at night; being let out of the hamster cages: freedom. I thought about this fact for a moment. Although, these men were in prison, they were still human. The guards seemed hollow and void of human emotion. Despite the different forms or years of punishments, despite inmate’s solid stone faces, despite their mistakes in life- they are also human like you and I. People tend to forget that making a poor choice does not take away a person’s humanity. I began to wonder as the entire jailhouse had its hungry eyes on me. I was walking into a building with the senator. Is it really humane how people are held in prison, or are we behind in our legal system? The truth is that State guards are terrorizing inmates and the guards lie, cheat, and steal. Just because a person makes a mistake does not mean they cannot work on their behavior in such ways as psycho therapy and other forms of relief. Prisoners are treated like cattle and nobody gives a damn. Why should they? They broke the law and were placed out of contact to the real world and if an average American knew what was going on and gave it a thought, they too would be surprised. In fact, when hundreds of sanatoriums closed down many people had nowhere to go and I remember one police officer said 60% of the people in jail have a mental illness. When the sanatoriums disappeared the streets were overwhelmed with mentally ill people. A lot of them had nowhere to go and could not function in society, of course, punishment is one thing but this is a jail (these jails) devoid of human understanding of life. One of the guards was having sexual relations with an inmate a few cells down. Our private files were an oxymoron and secrets did not exist, which often led to a lot of fights. Either inmates would read files or guards would start havoc by repeating the private information just to get a kick out of it. Some guards even encouraged fights and gambled on it. Yes, prisoners may have committed an unjustly act (if their actually guilty) but I fully believe society is at fault: America houses 25% of the world’s criminals but only makes up 5% of the world. My mind went to the chair. Innocent people have been killed in the chair. Yet, what further bothers people is that humanity is serving executions like a morning’s meal of toast and eggs. Death in jail passes as casually as a clock ticks. I was able to see firsthand what a mess- what a terrible mess.86

There are many people that believe only the death toward the guilty man/women will give them relief from their pain and suffering. Yet, I find that entirely selfish and the death of another person just continues the circle of pain. One life for another and to actually want to witness the death is slightly sadistic in my eyes but it continues to be the last puzzle piece of many lives. How can a jury of twelve people be responsible and held accountable for letting another person live or die. I would never want to be a part of a human’s demise because I have no authority over life and I would never want to be granted the authorization to judge a human’s morality or ethics. Do you hold the weight of life within your palm? Who should be a candidate for the injection of a lethal chemical compound? Yet, death row remains a popular punishment. Of course, the injection is finished by the doctor, and I wonder if he just considers it another job or if he goes home and have trouble sleeping because he killed a person. I am not sure which of the two ladder statements would bother me more. 87

The punishment of criminals is necessary and jails serve an important purpose but it should not be a source of unacknowledged corruption and there needs to be more therapy and perhaps even mandatory therapy. Yet, the sad part is that nobody cares. I agree some people should never see the outside of a jail but having the government murder an inmate with lethal force makes these guards on the same level of the inmates, which they are, but somewhere along the way of becoming a police office their heart was pounded out of them. 88

I actually believe that every criminal has mental illness. The next intellectual question that should follow is, “Evil exists in the world.” I believe the act itself is even but the point leading up to that act is consumed in Mental Health issues.89

I followed the senator and warden inside the far right entrance. It was the shortest conversation I had with a worker, “You are free to go. At the desk they will return your items,” said the senator. It was clear to me that the warden didn’t like the senator coming into “his” jail and order people around but they were buddies or so it seemed as they joked together. Despite their friendship, Wardens’ are very territorial people and often very cocky. After all, they can, have and do hold a vast city of prisoners and he could do whatever he wanted with little attention shifted his way and the only attention he did get was only a minimal concern. Winning awards for his work ordained his office and I had always wondered how the hell… 90

“Senator,” I said, “Can I talk to you privately for a moment before we depart.91

“The senator nodded his head and turned toward the Warden as if he were some lame hunchback creature. We followed the warden to a room where I pushed the door behind the senator. First of all, I don’t trust the Warden so don’t say anything you shouldn’t say, despite your friendship with him he will sell you and blackmail you… He records everything. I would be very surprised if this room isn’t tapped. Secondly, don’t yell at me when I say this. I need you to release Butch. He protected me from harm.92

The senator smiled as if I were crazy enough to believe that the room was tapped. Despite his naive grin, I think I got the wheels in his head spinning93

. “I need to get a man out of prison. He protected me and I promised him freedom if he guarded me.” I said again.94

“Well, that is too bad because if I let everybody out of prison, those who elected me would have a problem.” He crossed his arms.95

I looked around the room ceiling for any cameras and stood up. I inspected the walls, the door, and after I was sure there were no cameras, I took my wallet and hidden in it were out pills in a bag that I waved in front of him. “What needs to be done to get him out of jail?” I asked. I pulled out a pencil and used a gum wrapper to write with and threw down the offer on the table. He also wrote a number down and held up the price. 30,000 dollars towards narcotics. I guess money is what everybody wants; trades for anything. I spoke softly “I am going to wire 30,000 to three people in the jail that helped protect me. A week after the wiring of the money… The Senator was amused my paranoid concerns by writing nobody will ever hear about this.”96

I nodded my head. “I’ll see you in a couple weeks to serve you.”97

“In the next week,” I am hoping he said. 98

“I can promise you,” that I will call you and get the specifics.99

We both nodded and that reminded me, “Oh and congratulations on being elected again. I saw you on television.” 100

“Yup they love me!” he shouted in excitement. The senator grinned. “I’m just a man who wants to see the country run well.” He had a cocky smirk on his face. There was a brief pause. “I’ll get butch,” the senator said101

“What a bunch of bullshit- you are in politics because you want a challenge and not to mention the power,” I said and the two of us laughed. “You and your big ego,” I said with a chuckle102

“Okay, let’s get you out of here,” The senator said as he took his first glance around the room and a grim look appeared on his face at how rundown and sloppy it was. There was a panel leaking water onto the floor and smell of mildew. The vent was hardly visible through the fungus and mold growing from it. As I noticed him taking a look around the room I said, “I did some research on the prison and not only is it underfunded but the money is disturbed to the workers and the excess money is used to improve their personal offices.103

“Okay,” He said halfway paying attention. I just got you out of jail. Shutup.” I smiled at him and he smiled me. “Actually am going to go talk to the warden, I have some paper work to do and I want to see more of this prison. A limo is waiting for you outside. I contacted your secretary.” This time he gave me a wink. I laughed and thanked the senator.104

I had picked up all of my belongings including a briefcase that was impenetrable. It was obvious they tried to open it with subtlety. I replaced the handcuffed on my wrist, and my silver Rolex once again slid onto my wrist. I asked for my clothes back but they had mysteriously disappeared. It was like leaving 5,000 in dollars on a counter and because the justice system is completely corrupt, I left the corruptive woman who manned the office duties and headed to the parking lot. I was leaving hell and I felt damn good about. With every step of freedom I felt relief. 105

Sure enough, my driver, he was waiting at the door with my limo and out stepped Butch as I got in the limo. He politely opened and closed the door of the limo for me and he resumed his spot in the front. I leaned over and pecked the driver, my love, and I could smell his heavily scent of oceans, tantalizing smell and not even all the roses in the world would be a good apology for my absence. I was so pleased to see that I kissed him several more times. Then I made up a story about this really cute guy and I having sex in the shower in prison. He didn’t enjoy the humor but laughed. Being locked up had made me a more resilient man and a harsh gambler. 106

“Home! ” I watched the jail fade from view as thick rain planted itself on the windows.107

I poured the remainder of scotch into a glass and drank it as if this were the sunshine in my life. 108

“How bad was it,” my driver, my love, asked.109

“Let me just say I will kill myself before I go back.” 110