A Man Cut Into Slices
Chapter 4
CLACK CLACK, CLACK CLACK.
First wake up of the day. Stand in line. Eat breakfast. Put spoon away. Close cell door. Get back on bunk. Let mind wander. Fall asleep.
CLACK CLACK, CLACK CLACK.
Second wake up of the day. Stand in line. Eat lunch. Put spoon away. Close door. Chop it up with celly. Clean cell. Wait.
CLACK CLACK, CLACK CLACK.
Pod open. Walking laps. Walking laps with Dan. Playing chess with Dan.
“COMMISSARY!”
The copper yells to the pod.
“What do we do?” I ask Dan.
“We just go to our cells and wait until they call your name, then bring a pencil and your ID.”
“Do we have to put away the game?”
“Nah, just leave it here, this CO is cool.”
Just like Dan said, everyone is waiting by their cells. The trustees make a large circle of 12 chairs facing outward. In the middle are two commissary ladies and a huge pile of plastic bags with all sorts of goodies inside each one.
I watch inmates walk over to where they heard their name called, carrying a blanket, pencil, and ID. The ones going to a chair holding a phat sack have a little extra spring to their step, but I notice a very different demeanor in the ones walking to a mostly empty sack.
The bags are dwindling and I start getting nervous that my order did not get put in on time, or maybe something happened to prevent the money from getting on my account.
All sorts of scenarios are going through my mind when finally I hear, “Knight!” I get to the chair and I’m thrilled to even have a sack. The commissary lady checks the receipt to match up with my ID and hands it back. I assume that means I’m good to start taking the items. I check off each item from the receipt and put it on my blanket: one bag of coffee, five noodles, a bowl, a spork, a bag of hard candy, shampoo, and a bar of soap.
I walk back to the house and find JJ sitting on his bunk staring at the floor.
“Yo, they miss your order?”
“My girl only had enough money to give me phone time this week.”
“Shit, man, here's a couple noodles since you helped me out.”
“You don't have to do that.” He verbally rejects and physically accepts the offer simultaneously.
“DAYROOM’S OPEN.”
We can leave our cells.
JJ goes straight to the phones. I go back to my game of chess with Dan.
“Hard candy?” I offer him a piece of the candy I just got.
“Dude! Hide that, we can’t pass commissary.”
“Oh my God, I forgot. That's such a stupid rule! I bought it — what do you mean I can't give it to someone else if I choose?”
“I know, it’s fucking hateful. We are not supposed to trade tray food either.”
“Yeah! What the hell is that all about? I had to sneak giving my milk the other morning. You would have thought it was some big operation. We were all looking around making sure the guard was not watching and shit.”
“Yeah, and if you get caught, some of the cops will actually write you up. Not all of them are douche canoes, but most are.”
“Wow, here’s a write-up for giving someone a piece of candy. Some bullshit.”
Dan snorts. “Hey, you know, don’t like it, don’t come to jail!” I laugh because he snorted. He laughs because I laugh. I put the candy in a closed fist and reach halfway across the table next to our chess game. Dan makes sure the copper is not looking our way and brings his open hand up to where my fist is. I quickly drop the candy and he hides it by making a fist of his own. He checks one more time the copper is still not looking our way, unwraps it, then pops it in his mouth. It’s filthy how this system encourages petty criminal behaviors due to ineffective and illogical rules.
As we play chess all day, he tells me more details about his crime. Turns out Dan is a bit of a psycho. The girl he had been on a few dates with decided to ghost him without telling him why, so after trying multiple ways of trying to understand why she did not like him, he had the not-so-brilliant idea to climb through the window of her ground-level apartment and wait for her. When she got home and found a man in her place she started to panic and scream.
He just needed her to tell him why she did not like him, but she would not quiet down. So he pulled his knife out and demanded she quiet down and tell him why she did not want to be with him.
I'm just trying to keep my face as blank as I can while Dan is telling me his train wreck of a story. Well, as luck would have it, she ran right out of the place and was able to call the cops before anything worse could happen.
Now he's in a county jail playing chess with me. Turns out he does not have a drug or drinking problem either; he's just mentally unstable and needs help.
He won't find that here though. He will do some time, go through some public behavior classes, and be right back on the streets with the same underlying issues.
I read in a book once: Not everyone who sneezes has a cold, not everyone who can't sit still in the classroom has ADHD. “Will the Trojan Horse of Big Pharma help someone like Dan? Perhaps. But it is not the magic fix that so many wish it to be. A pill does not ultimately make decisions for us. Healthy daily habits and accountability are the foundation of a strong and balanced mindset. Life is hard, life has always been hard. There is not a lot in life that’s more rewarding and empowering than implementing discipline and problem solving on a daily basis.
Dan’s story has helped me judge him and his character more. Am I going to stop talking to him and playing chess just ’cause he's kind of a creep and has some screws loose? No, I’m not. Because there is a lot to learn from any one human being. Because I crave connecting with others if. Because I need to help others to exercise my true potential. Because deep down I desire to feel admired or acknowledged by others. It is my own pride that is colossal in its pretentiousness.
CLACK CLACK, CLACK CLACK.
First wake up of the day. Stand in line. Eat breakfast. Put spoon away. Close cell door. Get back on bunk. Spend X amount of time trying to fall asleep.
CLACK CLACK, CLACK CLACK.
Second wake up of the day. Stand in line. Eat lunch. Put spoon away. Close door. Chop it up with celly. Wait.
CLACK CLACK, CLACK CLACK.
Pod open. Chess with Dan.
CLACK CLACK, CLACK CLACK.
Dinner time and shift change.
It’s beef stroganoff tonight. But no one on the outs would call it that. We don't get real beef in here; we get estrogen-inducing soy bullshit. The meal itself has less than no flavor. Why don't they sell salt and pepper on commissary?
However, it's warm and at least the noodles are not crunchy tonight.
JJ and I close the door after putting our spoons on the cup port and start playing cards while we wait for shift change.
He teaches me a new two-person game called Casino that’s a bit like Polish poker. We play until the next officer arrives for shift change at 5:00. Normally we would play until doors CLACK CLACK at 5:30, but there’s a beautiful blonde angel at the guard’s station drawing our attention. Officer Parker is our CO again tonight.
“Oh my God she’s so sexy, I would drink her bathwater.”
“Ugh, you're a sick fuck,” I say, disgusted.
Men can be so crude. Me want to smash. Me want to bludgeon with cudgel. Derp derp derp. I don’t understand how so many lack finesse. Why is The Princess Bride not the standard for love? Then again, most men these days can’t compete with a customized dildo that vibrates on one setting and listens to her needs on another.
“You’re going to push the shield maidens too far, you know that Wright?”
Wtf who just wrote that?
“You think it’s easier for women these days? Stuck between a hard-on and Pornhub?”
I must have woken up in a dream again and started writing to myself. What happens when your mind has too much time to think?
“But what really happens when your thoughts start to think back?”
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I’ve been here for less than 2 weeks and I can feel the unrelenting march of time seeping into my veins, slowing me down and altering my perceptions. One. tick. at. a. time. Repeating over and over and over and tik tik tik..... Shane, wake up!…. Tik Tik Tik Tik….. Clack Clack, Clack Clack…. tik tik tik…… Shane, wake up!!!!!….. Tik Tik Tik Tik….. CLACK CLACK, CLACK CLACK…….. SHANE WAKE UP!!!!
End of Chapter 4
“If you’d like to make a call, fuck you.”
© Shane Wright, 2024. All rights reserved.
“Well I lied about dinner, because what you just read was the first serving of stew we’ve been brewing for years. Hopefully you’re full.”
Thank you Cillian, you can rest for a bit.
“October 1st is a month away, what do you mean a bit?”
It just so happens I have a surprise for you that I’ve been waiting to share until now.
“Hmmmm, your surprises never bode well for me.”
This time is different. Since you were so supportive in regards to my mental health on part 4 of The Slices That Make Up A Riddle I’ve decided to include you in The Slices That Make Up A Blog!
“Thank you, but do I have any choice?”
Not really, however, you do have a say!
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We hope you have enjoyed being early to Slices That Make Up A Riddle! The second half will be coming Oct 1st.
In the meantime, feel free to browse the rest of the website. There is a super rad creative writing “assignment” found in The Cell that just might make a writer out of you, and of course more R.A.P.S: Riddles, Art, Poetry, and Stories.
I’ll be honest, my target audience is not a super large % of the population, so if there are things that rub you the wrong way, I completely understand, but I don’t wanna hear ‘em. I’ve already had to endure extreme scrutiny from friends, family, peers, and the public, and at the end of the day I just have to take a leap of faith and trust what I’m doing is a net gain for myself and others.
I firmly believe there is no such thing as bad art, just an undesirable perspective.
And if someone can sell a banana taped to a wall for $150,000 that wasn’t really about the banana, but was a “commentary on value, ownership, and the absurdity of the contemporary art market." It means these people paid for the concept, the notoriety, and the right to be part of the conversation.
And I feel no shame at providing a similar concept for free. Free of ads, free of popups, and free from forced membership signup.
Thank you.