I was remanded to High Security (24-hour lockup supposed to be 23-) which is for the worlds worst refuse mentally ill dementia derelicts housed with degenerate jack monsters, jacking on anything morn noon night, peeping out a pair of 3” window slots standing atop the toilet on the auto sliding demise doors. For fighting a child molester under the stairs and contraband, a couple shanks (the arms off my glasses, the 1/8” piece of metal making them dangerous is called henge).
After being released from the spiritless sterile solitary, 15 days without sheets blankets or mattress, one learns that BC Unit loves and dotes over their baby rapers.
My first cellie was all the above with an added attribute. Filthy, the ammonification wafting, permeating the demise for wanton lack of hygienic prowess (soap and water) caused me will-o-the-wisp hallucinations.
What was so vile and vexing was the fact that Filthy had shown me how to jerry rig the sink, jabbing a pen cap with housing into the orifice whilst jamming a razor cap into the hot water button, sending a ¼” stream skyward having a shower anytime.
Filthy was assigned top bunk, would not take his meds, instead would peer down at me with his black beady pig eyes circulating in their hollow hollows, trying to maintain some vestige of sanity and sleep, babbling and jabbering hour after hour, day after day, week after week, hearing the voices (degenerates in the next demise) from his cocoonic state, the only reprieve was the mandatory mania that was slept in till the demise was infested with roaches breeding in the 12-volt auto-locking housing crawling over me to get to the jizz stink putrification aromatic ammonification engulfing the demise that pest control upon my specific request doubled the dose of insecticide in the auto-locking housing.
That the roaches shook off like a wet dog doubled in size as they were now on a genetically modified jizz mission atop me.
Pill Nurse O Pill Nurse, this was the worst! The worst and potentially deadly situation. Twice daily as if by some divine intervention, ESP, Filthy would perceive Nurse’s arrival, arise from his cocoon and lie in wait for girl or grannie, skinny minnie to supersize sloth, it mattered not! Prepped the demise hanging a blanket off the vent, then tied off to the handle to aid in climbing onto the top bunk (often used in asphyxiation) splitting the demise in half diagonally.
Greased and geared, the mandatory mania begins, sound effects exasperate ever positioning the askew view. Pill Nurse arrives. Filthy darts behind the partition to avoid disciplinary. The food slot opens. Roaches scurry, having been feasting on yesterday’s vile vulgar. The pungent putrid aromatic ammonification engulfs Nurse and Guard. The meds in white dispensing cup are thrown into the food slot on the floor where today’s vile lies.
The food slot is instantly slammed shut trying to contain the stench where at Nurse (whom I’ve known for years) gives me an askance of utter disgust trying not to vomit.
O god! O god! I, I, want to kill, just kill, make it stop, just stop. This is the very reason I was wrongfully classified and housed and Fully Realized why Filthy had gotten his head beat in with a lock in a sock, that I’d be a racist for that. He was suing prison officials for violating his civil right by not protecting him whilst perpetrating the mandatory.
I’ve served my sentence in the demise upgrading to general population and saw Filthy at chow hall cooking and serving.
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