Me an S spend a whole evening talking about different types of meat. He tells me about water rats they have in Germany that are as big as cats, but explains that if you spice it properly, it's supposed to be banging. We talk about things to do when we get out, he says he'll definitely come see me in England, as America is whack. preach. Someone brings up the subject of horse meat. S tells me that he knows people that work at an abatouir, and that for 500 dollars they'd kill a horse for you and chop it up, if you supplied the horse. I don't think horse meat would taste very nice, he think it does, and spends about a good two hours talking about if you put it in a 'smoker' and smoke it for a few hours, it would taste the shit! The whole time we're talking he's making horse noises extremely loudly, and talking how you would imagine a horse would talk.
Visitors day comes around. Something goes down.
Everyone is having fun getting ready to see their visitors (apart from me) and then we hear 'LOCK IT DOWN LOCK IT DOWN'..
The guards come through, and start throwing people out their cells and all their shit out into the main halls. A lot of people are thrown into the SHU, apparently for smuggling in cigarettes, weed and coke. Fair play.
Ox's room is freed up. Him and S are 'spades' partners. Spades is a game that everyone plays in prison, and takes way way way too seriously. As they are partners, he moves in with Ox.
I now have my own Manhatton based Batchelors pad! But not for long..
"Guvercin, you got a legal visit"
So off i go to see tubs lardy, my flatulant breathed attorney. This mostly consists of him not listening to a word i have to say, him telling me lie after lie that i have to point out for him are not true, and generally him just trying to scare the shit out of me in an attempt to get me to 'break'. When i come back at him with questions and answers to a lot of the bullshit he spouts at of his mouth, not unlike a diarria sprinkler, he does his houdini impression and tells me he has to go to court and jets, and proceeds to roll out the conference room like that fat kid from Hook.
After a lovely strip search and a few trips through a metal detector, i am sent back to the unit.
"yo Timmy Magic, you seen your new cellie? He looks CRAZY Timdog!"
They lied. I get back to my cell, and see my new bunkie. He's young, around my age by the looks of it, kind of cracked out looking, and is sporting the same bewildered look on his bonce that i sported upon my arrival.
Everything that was done for me, i now share with him. I explain how things work, give him some advice, and try to help him to relax and fit into his new surroundings. I was given some food and toiletries by my fellow inmates upon arrival, and i also return the favour and give this guy a few things to help.
At first, we get along.
It's nice for me to speak to someone my own age, and is kind of in a similar situation, of sorts.
Everyone i have shared a cell with upto this point, i have got on with, and had no problems. As long as you act like a man, are respectful, it's hard not to get along with people in here.
We get talking..I explain to him how i am in the process of seperating from my 'wife', and that although she was anything but good for me, it's very upsetting. When i said my marriage vows, i meant them. I had faith that i would be sharing my life and adventures with this person, growing old together, the whole shbang! Instead of all this, i've been served a shit sandwhich with diarria sprinkles. My darling wife had decided that blaming me for the crime she comitted and turning her back on our marriage and my family, was easier than taking responsiblity for her actions and standing by her husband. Safe.
After hearing about my predicament, i am met with "yeah i know how you feel man, i'm in a similar situation". Yeah?
The guy then explains that he met a girl four days prior to his arrest, fucked her, and isn't sure if he likes her or not..
I understand everyone has their own problems, but i somehow don't feel compassion for this individual.
And that's how it started. Day by day, this guy was gradually getting on my nerves more and more.
*I had a big pot of sugar in my cell, and told him we can both use it. Sugar is free, and you get it in the mornings for breakfast. Once the pot was empty, through mostly his continued use, he would get sugar, and simply hide it in his locker. Or lie and say he has no sugar, or was 'saving it'.
At this point, i was having trouble getting money for 'comissary', for food, clothes, general shit that makes your life a little easier, and gives you a bit of your humanity back. The day before we put our orders in, he has no money. So, i kindly send an email to a freind, and get them to call his mother and get her to put some money on his account for him. "thanks T, i'll hook you up don't worry". Isit.
He orders a fucking shitload of stuff. More in one time than i had ordered in two months. Yet when it all comes, there is always an excuse for him not to share or give me anything. Fucking weak, considering if it wasn't for me he would have nothing.
My best freind sends me a nice graffiti book, one of those black book ones full of famous heads..There are a few wanabee writers in here (Every person you speak to all claims they used to paint with Seen and co 'back in da day') and i tell J not to let anyone borrow the book, or show it to anyone without me being there in the cell.
The next day, i observe this mongloid take someone, to the cell, to go through MY fucking book. Enough.
I ask the other guy to leave the cell. I explain, extremely fucking angrily, that he is in jail and needs to think about what the fuck he is doing, and if it happens again, there will be no warning. He just looks at me like a little kid thats just been told off, and ignores me for two days, sulking, before apologising.
Two days later, i wake to the sound of him pissing. Nothing out the ordinary. But then i realise he is missing the toilet and pissing on the floor. "you're pissing on the floor". He realises his extreme lack of aiming skills, and cleans up. Hours later, i get up. "THERE IS STILL PISS ON THE FLOOR, CLEAN IT UP". He mumbles that he will, and i leave the cell before i strangle this mother fucker in his bed. The hours later, still there is piss on the floor. I go in the cell and turn the light into a strobe.
"GET THE FUCK UP AND CLEAN THIS PISS UP!" Sheepishly, he gets up and starts cleaning and then goes back to bed. Hours later, i'm lying in bed, drimking some hot tea. I have put the paper sugar packets in the toilet. Enter the moron.
"Why you put them in the toilet, that's disgusting"
"WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE TALKING TO"
He mumbles something, all i catch is the word faggot. Off goes my mug of tea on a journey, destination, his face. He runs out the room.
Later on i am confronted by three angry looking spanish dude. But in seconds, i hear
"don't worry kid" and i notice that i have been joined by four bigger, angrier, black guys! I explain what happened, and while that pussy hides on another tier, we agree that he should move..I am greeted by my new cellmate Shy..
http://gothamist.com/2008/12/14/upper_east_side_thief_is_a_bank_rob.phphttp://www.nypost.com/p/news/regional/item_cHwEDuZPcJo6brhSK8ZPTO
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