Take a moment in time to read my autobiography of a prison cell.
Today I am scheduled to receive two new occupants. And I am hoping that they will stay around a lot longer than the last two. The two that just left were quite the duo. They are by far the most entertaining set of bunkies to keep me full so far.
From my own point of view, they were truly the prison version of the “Odd Couple.”
Allow me to break it down.
The short, muscular one paroled and went home two days ago, and something tells me I’m going to be seeing him again. All he did was sleep, play cards, chess, dominoes, and watch television all day. The whole time that he was here I never saw him pick up a book, read a newspaper, exercise, or even make any real effort to get his life before parole any better (sad, I know).
Anyway, the tall, slender one shortly after decided to commit suicide after his bunkie made parole. I guess it really pained him to see someone else get the chance that he deserved. You see, he’s serving a life sentence with no chance of parole. And over the course of the 20-plus years he’s been in prison, he’s earned a GED and completed every program that is available, while maintaining a job. But he always felt like there was no one in the world who cared. And each and every night I would listen to him as he prayed to God to send him an angel who would truly understand him and also shield him from the pain and loneliness of being locked up. Little did he know that I would be his angel.
It’s kind of ironic when I think about it, and here’s why. People just don’t seem to understand that even inanimate objects like myself can be a reflection of God’s grace and mercy. I have given countless men another chance at life in the free world but ultimately it’s up to them to take it.
When “Slim,” as I called him, started tying up his bunk sheets to the upper part of his bunk and began looping it around his neck, it got me thinking.
I thought about all of the things that he had done to transform his life and also the lives of those he came into contact with day in and day out. I know the intimate contents of his heart as well as his soul. He was a man with very deep compassion and infinite patience. The way I saw it, he was truly a good man who got caught up hanging with the wrong crowd.
As I reflected on all that he shared with me over the years, I decided that I couldn’t allow such a promising life to commit such a tragic end. So I exhaled deeply and caused my cell door to pop open, which caused the light-showing door to open inside the CO’s module. The COs responded just in time to cut him down and save his life.
If he would have died they would have left my cell empty for a couple of weeks pending investigation, and the young prisoners who were emotionally tortured would most likely have given up. You see, he is the only one who has ever really shown them that someone cared for them. Besides that reason, selfishly I did not want to be alone. There is nothing that I hate more than having a void inside of me. Well, there is one more thing that I hate more than being alone. And that I can’t stand an occupant who doesn’t shower on a regular basis or clean up after himself. Even worse — having an occupant who has a bad case of gas.
Then there are those like the knucklehead who just entered with all kinds of vices. He hasn’t been in here five seconds and already he’s walking around like he owns the place. Do you know that he had the audacity to put some torn-out pages from a magazine up on my walls? He doesn’t even know if I like Halle Berry and Queen B Beyonce. I do but that’s not the point. I guess that I’m a bit old-fashioned and set in my ways. That being said, and even though my walls are peeling and the floor has all kinds of cracks in it, I am still comfortable in my own skin, and I wish more people were too.
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