Tuesday, September 11, 2007

25 Aug 2007-09-09

The Royo Romance (15 B)(food visit continued)

Click here for Part 14.

“I’m just checking,” Royo Girl said.
“It’s not such a bad thing to check on actually,” I said. “The longer I’ve been down, the more I’ve found out about how many people do mess around in here. It’s easily the majority, including some of the biggest, baddest prisoners. My sex drive has decreased. But I think it’s because I'm not around women. It’s every prisoner’s worst nightmare to get out of prison to discover they’re sexually ruined. Hopefully my reproductives are in good working order."
“Oh yeah,” she said.
“I’ll find out soon if a certain someone follows through on her idea of deflowering my re-virginity.”
My idea!”
“OK. Maybe it was a joint idea of ours.”
“Huh! But I will be in England for certain other reasons when you are due to be released.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“So are you nervous about getting out?”
“The only nervousness I had was when I worried about not getting out. I can’t wait to get out. I’m filled with excitement. There’s all kinds of books and stories I’ve drafted that I want to re-write and start submitting. I see all kinds of opportunities ahead of me. I’ve got family and friends supporting me. It’s the poor guys in here like Midnight who have nowhere to go and no family or friends, and are released with fifty-dollars gate money, that have good cause to be concerned. How can I fret when there are so many people in Midnight’s situation? Last time Midnight got out, the police even took his gate money. These guys are turned loose with next to nothing, expected to make their way in the world, and end up taking the easiest route to feed and cloth themselves: committing crimes. Nearly every blog character I’ve written about who has been released has come right back.”
“Are you coming back?”
“Hell no! I’m going to focus on becoming a writer. And if I make money from that I’ll use it to trade stocks online. That way I’ll be able to stay at home with the good woman who helps me settle down.”
“You’re too wild to settle down. You’d grow bored with someone like me.”
“That was the old me. The kind of stuff I used to laugh at – watching plays, listening to concerts, reading books other than stock market books – that’s all stuff I don't mind doing now. I still want to have fun, but I’ve realised fun is a state of mind. When you’ve had your life taken away, you are up to try anything. And there’s nothing wrong with partaking in the funnest thing in the world: making love. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“We’ll see about that.”

I kissed Royo Girl goodbye, and joined the inmates waiting to be strip-searched in an outdoor cage.
“We saw you mackin,” a homey called Fat Boy said to me.
“Englandman’s not lost his touch,” said Big Vato, one of Frankies compadres, a massive man with a bald, tattooed head.
Fat Boy pointed at me and said, “Homey’s got G-A-M-E. England’s a pimp. A mad pimp.”
The cage quickly filled with food talk and gasses passed.
Burp. Someone call me a fuckin’ ambulance,” an Aryan Brother said, rubbing his belly. Fart. “Isn’t burpin’ good manners in England?”
“I think you’ve got the wrong country, mate,” I said.
“Maybe it’s Germany.”
“Today sure beat motherfuckin’ state food.”
“Whatchu eat?”
“Lobster, steak, shrimp, some Mexican food. Every fuckin thang.”
“I had chile rellenos, fried squash and zucchini, chefs salad, and homemade pear pie.”
“I ate Chinese. Shrimp fried rice, sweet and sour pork, egg rolls. That motherfucker had octopus.”
“Octopus!
“Yeah. Octopus in wine sauce.”
“I had linguine, brownies, a fruit salad, a spinach salad with jalapeno ranch dressing and kolacy.
“Whathafucks kolacy?”
“It’s a shortbread cookie with…like…er…apricot, peach, and prune preserves on top, covered with powered sugar. From Czechoslovakia. It’s Bohemian.”
“Y’all some fine-dinin’ eatin’ motherfuckers. Gimme a pound o’ bacon and some homemade hash browns and I’m one happy motherfucker.”
The kolacy man added, “And for ice cream I had Vanilla Heath Bar and Cherry Garcia.”
“I had Rocky Road ice cream,” Lurch said.

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Copyright © 2006-2007 Shaun P. Attwood

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