Hazardous Waste Ch. 04

Jason was serving twelve years for breaking into homes and selling cocaine. He was 5'10" and 150 lbs. He had a sharp tongue, he was witty and he a smart ass.

One day Jason was playing handball out in the yard. He was winning just about every game. As he hit a kill shot, he'd yell, "BOOM! Take that motherfucker!" He'd jaw back and forth with the other cons. Then, as he won, he'd say, "Get the fuck off the court! NEXT!!" Well the guy who is next just so happened to be a new guy named Zack. Zack was new to Raiford, not to prison.

As the game starts. Jason takes a quick lead and starts talking shit, "Get the fuck off my court, amateur night is on Broadway."

Zack responds, "Shut up and serve the ball."

Jason says, "Tell your bitch to shut up."

Zack says, "Serve the ball!"

Jason serves a hard shot down the line. It's an ace. He wins 7-0, and yells, "Get the fuck off my court, boy."

Zack says, "You're a cocksucker."

Jason says, "Fuck you punk!"

That's all it took. Zack ran to Jason, swinging hay makers. Jason avoided most of them. But then Zack landed a solid punch to Jason's chin. Jason then fell to the ground and Zack kicked him. Zack was like a wild animal as he mauled Jason all over the handball court. Needless to say, Jason got his ass kicked!

A lot of shit talk is tolerated between people. But once someone says "punk" or "bitch"...it's on!

So you wanna break wind while everyone is enjoying a home cooked meal, huh? Alright you son-of-a-bitch, I'll see you in the yard!

Shane is a 28 year old skinhead. He was in prison for drugs. He got caught with a garbage bag full of hallucinogenic mushrooms in his car when he got pulled over by a state trooper. Book em Dano! He ended up getting 6 years.

Shane is one nasty dude. He loves ripping nasty-ass farts. He even eats match heads because he says the sulfer makes his farts smell even worse. He lives in a 4-man cell. The fart games are constant in that cell. As one guy sleeps, another guy will pull down his pants and place his naked ass inches from his sleeping celly's face. Then he'll blow his hair back with a hot stinky gust of ass air. The victim of this practical joke wakes up to the other 3 laughing, and nose full of microscopic shit particles. Later he returns the favor by farting in his hand and rubbing it in his celly's face.

It's an ongoing cycle that never ends. So naturally, Shane continued his rude antics outside of his cell, too. That included the chow hall. A place where everyone gathers to eat. And not everyone is fond of the "fart game." Especially Donnie. Donnie is an old school convict who's been in and out of prison since the early eighties. He wasn't amused and only smiled once, that anyone remembered. So when Shane let one rip in the chow hall, Donnie reacted.

"Come on you nasty mother fucker, show some god damn respect and put a zipper on your ass." Tension instantly filled the shit scented air. Donnie wasn't messing around, and everyone knew it.

Shane tried to save face, "Oh come on Donnie, lighten up. It was only a joke."

Donnie replied with more agitation in his voice, "It wasn't a fucking joke! Jokes are funny. You farting in the chow line is not funny. Don't do it again!"

Donnie's words hurt Shane's pride. So rather than talk shit back with his mouth, Shane talked more shit with his ass. He lifted one butt cheek off the seat and pushed as hard as he could. His ass ripped the loudest, longest fart anyone had ever heard in the chow hall. Several guys started laughing. Now Donnie's pride was hurt, too. Donnie stood up, grabbed his tray, and said, "Alright son-of-a-bitch. I'll see you in the yard!"

Sure enough, that night Donnie beat the shit outta Shane. It wasn't even a close fight. Donnie knocked him out with one punch, then proceeded to kick Shane in the head and face. He stopped only after a warning shot was fired from the gun tower.

My job was to nip the shit in the bud, doing whatever was necessary, and make killings look like accidents. Most men don't need killing, they need pain to get their minds right.

But pissant shit weren't the only problems. Politics was never a problem till the ragheads come along. They were delicate snowflakes from the start, and everthing was a big fucking problem. It couldn't have been worse if they moved the whole women's prison in with us and give the Muslims their own place. White men, black men, and spics cope with what is. But not the girls or the ragheads.

"Eating pork is a direct violation of Islamic law," explain one Muslim. "We can't eat it, we can't touch it, and it ain't supposed to be prepared around nothing that our meals is prepared in. And that's what they been doin' to us for all these years and years. This has been a long time waitin', and yes I believe Barack Obama and his wife Michelle did this for us." So said a Muslim Member of Congress.

Prison chow was never anything that won awards or pleased anyone, but once prisons filled with Muslims, Muslims used chow as a weapon against the government. "No pork!" OK! Though almost all Muslims like pork and eat it all the time. "Don't cook pork near our food!"

So prisons stopped serving pork, and went with Muslim fare few Americans like. Been to a Muslim restaurant? Of course not. Muslims got problems with almost everything but chickens and goats. Chicken is okay unless you make traditional American dishes with chicken. Bottom line: No American menu. Muslims won't go with the flow, and politicians gotta kiss their asses or die.

One pissed off con said it all, "These Muslim fellars gotta go ruin everything for everyone else."

But it wasn't so simple as changing goat for pork, which they did. The government made convicts fill out forms demanding goat. If you didn't want goat or didn't do the paperwork you got rabbit food at every meal.

Walk up to any Muslim in here, and I don't care if they are black, brown, purple or red, tell them that the Food Service Administrator said we're all getting steak and beef ribs from Denny's today, but that it'll be served in pans along with pork chops and bacon, and see what they do. Not one swinging dick of them would turn it down. They'll be first in the chow line. No one eats goat cuz they like it. They eat goats cuz that's all there is.

I encouraged our jailhouse lawyers to STFU with all their bitching and whining.

All my work involved situations like the above listed issues. But then a crazy fucking nigger named Donate Sproule came to live at our happy home. He called himself DONTAE, his mother was an illiterate crack whore who spelled it DONATE, but all called him DONTAE. I don't know why he didn't change the spelling legally.

Donate came to us because he murdered several people and his lawyer made a deal with the prosecutor to spare Donate's life for no contest pleas to all the murders. But Donate was a crazy mother fucker and VIPs wanted him dead. "Do it how you want," I was told. No problem.

Then a bleeding heart judge cut him loose, and the mother fucker went home. I'm no lawyer but I'm told the problem hatched when the cops failed to kiss Donate's ass before they talked to him and he alluded to where the bodies were buried and they found stuff of his on a body. The judge was appalled. And Donate cheated the Grim Reaper twice, once with the hangman, and once with me.

To be continued.