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Special Prisoner (standard:fantasy, 3358 words)
Author: Alpha43Added: Apr 11 2005Views/Reads: 2044/1793Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
An old con thought he had seen it all until he ran into a new fish who had powers beyond anything seen before.

Special Prisoner 

The story you are about to read was written by a man that most people
would consider The Voice of Experience at this institution, me. I have 
seniority, I hold a position of trust, and I consider myself alert and 
aware of the most minute actions and reactions that could affect the 
daily routine here. New people, and their sometimes unusual responses 
to their new enviroment, normally attract very little attention, and so 
it was with Bud, the man described in this story. It was months after 
his arrival before I, and I alone, witnessed events that proved 
something was extremely unique about this fellow. 

I’ve seen about every kind of degenerate in existence, but this guy
topped the list. I didn’t give him two weeks in this joint. I have 
survived this place for twenty-seven years, on my way to “thirty-two 
years without parole,” and I thought I had seen it all. Mind you, I 
have seen men claim insanity and try to prove it and I have seen pure 
insanity and watched men deny it. This guy, Bud, made no claims, but 
turned out to be very special. 

Everybody tries to act tough when they arrive at Jackson Prison. But, by
the time you get your cold fire hose shower, endure a DDT dip to 
de-louse the assorted under-arm wildlife and pubic pests, and then have 
ninety-eight percent of your hair removed, most guys come to realize 
that everyone in this joint is just a mere mortal. 

My name is Roger Leroy Hines, “Turkey” to everybody in here, and I have
established myself as a man not to be messed with. I don’t take 
“Lovers”, I do not ‘do’ or provide drugs, I give every con a fair 
chance, and I have a good “working” relationship with the Bulls. 

I can make good things happen if you can come up with enough cash,
cigarettes, liquor, or certain kinds of reading materials. I demand 
respect and I expect honesty because I do not give second chances. If 
you fail to comply with our code of honor, massive amounts of bad luck 
will surely come your way. But I was about to learn that there are 
people who could far outdo me, once the line is crossed. 

I was told that on the day of his arrival, this guy gobbled like a
turkey, then relieved himself on the shower floor, rolling in his own 
mess. While being de-loused, he took in a mouthful of crotch cricket 
dip and spewed it into a guard’s face. This was not the way to 
establish rapport with the guards! 

When Bud woke up in solitary confinement, you’d think he would have
questioned the wisdom of his actions. But every time he passed back his 
meal tray through the door slot, it contained human waste. He sang very 
loudly and made crow calls during his entire stint in the hole. The 
guards were as happy to see him leave solitary as he was to go. 

My cell is on ‘E’ wing, an area normally reserved for lifers or long
term cons, and that is what made it unusual for this new fish to wind 
up in this wing. His full name is Walter ‘Bud’ Patton, and he was doing 
two to five years for simple B & E. He had been at a minimum-security 
lock-up near Chelsea, Michigan, but they claim he was involved with the 
plot that got his former cellmate killed, so they added four years to 
his time, and a transfer here. 

Mr. Patton was unlucky enough to be cellmates with Charles ‘The Pick’
Thomas. ‘The Pick’ is on his eighteenth year of two 20-year sentences 
for piercing the eyes of his landlady and her son. It appears that 
Charlie gets upset if you press him for his rent. ‘The Pick’ would have 
never left this place paroled. He has spent a good third of his time in 
the hole. “Time off for good behavior” doesn’t apply to ‘The Pick’, a 
mean and savage man. 

The very first night in ‘E’ wing, Mr. Patton started singing loudly and
hooting like an owl, immediately after lights out. There was a short 
scuffle, but it only lasted for a few minutes, then everything was 
quiet, and remained quiet the rest of the night. Every con on E wing 
assumed that Mr. Patton was about to set a new record for the shortest 
stay at Jackson Prison. 

The lights come on at 6 AM each morning and the horn sounds at 6:05, at
which time you have thirty seconds to step outside your cell and get 

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