it's the middle of the day, yet the cage door leading to all our cells is locked the fuck down.
..No one has been violated, robbed or boyyed..
..it's chicken day.
i've got plans for my piece of bird,
man's blagged his way nto the Jamaican shower
Cartels whip today!
:D
I've been watching these guys merk the fuck out
of chicken for time now, and as i'm cool with them, they've set me in the
whip for todays Jamaican Curry..
I grab my piece of bird, dodge all the vultures
circling me for my poultry piece of hairy roadkill,
and hand it to the chef..who spends the next few
hours marinating the FUCK out of my chicken with
all kinds of next level herbs and spices..
As always,
on chicken day the kitchen is uber rammo.
When someone is cooking for me (for free) i usually
stand close by incase they need some kind of help preparing
our meal.
Whether that is chopping up some vegetables, helping mans multitask,
grabbing spices, herbs and ingredients from peoples cells on a secret squirrel flex,
or just 'holding them down' (keeping an eye out for the po po)..
My freind B is also cooking.
I'm currently doing some work for him, he wants me to sketch his baby mothers name
and his daughters name in bubble lettering..no problemo :D
The shit he is marinating his bird in smells fucking BANGING!
"What you got in that bowl B?"
"FLAVOURS, N****R!"
..I was looking for a more specific answer to my question..
"err, what kind of flavours?"
He swiftly turns around, flossing an ULTRA screwface..
"N****R!...look, Q, tell this n****r what's in that bowl.."
Q extends his arm, his fist almost touching my nose, with his hand tightly clenched.hethen slowly
opens his hand, one finger at a time, like a blooming flower..He looks me dead in the eye and
in a very loud robotic monotome voice shouts
"FLAE-VORRS!"
:(
..I head back to my cell.
It's a couple hours until my Jamaican Curry turns up,
but fucking hell was it worth the wait!!
I don't usually like hot food, but this guy absolutely smashed it!
Thre was just enough spice to leave my tongue tingling, and i can
taste all the different vegetables, spices and ingredients..
It's quite a spectacle too, me and these three other Jamaican dudes
crammed in this tiny cell, yammin all this curry down with next to no
room to manouvre..
Everyone is talking in pattwa too..
"Timmy do you understand?"
..I just nod my head and keep munching the ultra dope
food that i have been licky enough to have been given.
Not everyone is lucky enough to have a meal cooked for them,
let alone one as ludicrously sick as the one i'm currently inhaling..
The fact that this guy has put the work in,
marinating the shit out of my once cruddy piece of chicken,
is something that i am very grateful for and appreciate,
a lot.
Meanwhile,
for the people that didn't remix their bird,
the prison is resembling a baron wasteland, scarce of any
remnants of food, and it's turning into survival of the fittest..
..i overhear on my way back to my cell..
"LISTEN UP.
I'M LOOKING FOR A BAG OF CHEESE DOODLES.
I KNOW ONE OF YOU MOTHERFUCKERS GOT SOME,
IM'A ASK YOU NICELY AN IM'A PAY YOU BACK.
iF NOT,
IF I FIND OUT, AN I WILL FIND OUT IF YOU MOTHERFUCKERS
GOT EM, IM'A BREAK A MOTHERFUCKER OFF.
YOU CAN HEAR ME FIENDING FOR CHEESE DOODLES AN I KNOW
A MOTHERFUCKERS GOT EM.
I AIN'T GONNA ASK AGAIN,
IM'A JUST START VIOLATING N****RS."
:D
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