23 August 07

Encounter With a Double Murderer

I had been put to work in the kitchen. There were no dishes to wash, so I put two crates at the foot of a wall and sat down.
Magpie, a chunky Indian who has stabbed to death two separate inmates, came up to me and said, “I put those crates there. That’s my seat.”
I ignored him.
Magpie looked at the youngster we were working with in the clipper room, and said, “Tell him whose seat that is.”
The youngster said nothing.
“I always sit there in the corner. Look, England, I can see that we’re gonna bump heads already.”
I started to take notes.
“You can’t be writing shit down in here. And if I find out you’re using my name, I’m gonna fuck you up.”
“I’ll write whatever I want to write. Everyone knows I never use real names.”
“Well get off your ass, man. That’s my seat.”
“I put those crates here.”
“I’m telling you now, that’s my corner. I've got that corner. That’s where I sit. I can see it now, I’m gonna have a problem with you. I’m not bullshitting you, I’ll put you in the garbage disposal head-first.”
I ignored him.
Holding a scraper with a long blade, he came at me and and said, “Now talk some shit, England.”

To be continued.


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