10 Jan 06
Prison Boyfriend
For my heart’s sake, I haven’t called Claudia for almost a year. I call her dad weekly, and recently she answered his phone.
From observing prisoners in relationships, it seems that the lot of the prison boyfriend is often a miserable one. His happiness hinges on her fickleness. The level of attention he receives from her is inversely proportional to the level of attention she is receiving from other men. The prison boyfriend is a boyfriend by default. When she lacks alternatives he is sought out. Her attention raises his self-esteem until she finds someone who can give her the things he cannot – and then he is crushed. For lack of love the prison boyfriend is drawn into this cycle over and over again.
Claudia asked me to call her. I can tell myself to call her as a friend, but when I speak to her, all kinds of feelings arise. Her voice, her laughter, her softness act like hooks pulling at my heart. At times like this, I wish my heart were made of steel.
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2006 Shaun P. Attwood
Sunday, January 29, 2006
09 Jan 06
Girls With Stiff Nipples Prefer Red Jell-O
Xena arrived in the chow hall wearing elastic bands around his nipples. Brandishing a pop bottle with a spiky ring around the cap, Xena approached Junior Bull.
“Whaddafucksdat on yer bottle?” Junior Bull asked.
“A cock ring,” Xena said.
“Xena, are you into S & M?” a youngster asked.
“Yeah,” Xena said. “I once hung work boots from my nutsack, and I couldn’t get my dick hard for two days 'cause it hurt so much.”
“Have you read any Marquis de Sade, Xena?” I asked.
“Who’s he?” Xena said.
“He’s the S in S & M," I said. "He wrote The 120 Days of Sodom when he was a prisoner at the Bastille. The book gets more and more demented - even detailing what foods to eat to make your turds taste better.”
“Definitely not prison spaghetti sauce,” Xena said. “I’d like to read his book.” Xena turned to Repo and said,“Hey, Repo, how do ya like my nipples today?”
“I noticed that they’re hard,” Repo said.
“I have rubber bands around 'em. I keep 'em like that for two hours, but I have to remember to squeeze 'em.”
“Squeeze 'em?” I said.
“To keep the blood flowin’,” Xena paused, “and for sensual purposes. It’s a complicated procedure known only to a chosen few. When the two hours are up, they’ll stay hard for a day. You wanna see 'em, Repo?”
“I don’t wanna see your nips,” Repo said.“But I will wrap those elastic bands around your neck till your face turns blue.”
“It’s time for me to take 'em off anyway. You want one, Repo? You could chew on it – it’ll be like Hubba Bubba gum.”
“I don’t pitch or catch at any levels. Women like me too much,” Repo said.
“Whoops. I just farted,” Xena said.
“That’s the first time I’ve heard you fart,” Repo said. “What did ya do, attach a rubber band to your ass?”
“I have a bad prostrate. Haven’t you felt your prostrate before? Its just half an inch inside your anus.”
“That’s an exit only,” Repo said.
“You’ve never keystered anything?” Xena said.
“No! Nothin’ goes up my ass.”
“But you’ve gotta check your prostrate from time to time. Just sit down on the toilet, stick your finger in your butt, and you’ll feel a little lump. Checkin’ your prostrate isn’t a homosexual act, Repo, and besides, the greatest homophobes are the ones frontin’ their homosexuality.”
“I’m not homophobic. I don’t care what you put in your orifices, Xena.”
“If you’re not homophobic, then how about lettin’ me put some makeup on you?” Xena said.
“No!” Repo said.
“Just eye shadow?” Xena said.
“No,” Repo said.
By some fluke – or perhaps a kitchen worker’s prank – everyone was served green Jell-O (jelly) except for Repo and Xena who received red Jell-O.
“What’s this shit? I hate red fuckin’ Jell-O!" Repo's face flushed. "How come everyone got green Jell-O and I got red?” Repo yelled at the kitchen workers.
The chow hall went quiet as we waited for a response from the kitchen workers. But no response came, so Xena held up his tray and said, “Hey look everybody, I got red Jell-O too. And guess what? I checked the menu, and it says red Jell-O’s what they’re givin’ all the girls tonight.”
Everyone laughed at Repo.
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2006 Shaun P. Attwood
Girls With Stiff Nipples Prefer Red Jell-O
Xena arrived in the chow hall wearing elastic bands around his nipples. Brandishing a pop bottle with a spiky ring around the cap, Xena approached Junior Bull.
“Whaddafucksdat on yer bottle?” Junior Bull asked.
“A cock ring,” Xena said.
“Xena, are you into S & M?” a youngster asked.
“Yeah,” Xena said. “I once hung work boots from my nutsack, and I couldn’t get my dick hard for two days 'cause it hurt so much.”
“Have you read any Marquis de Sade, Xena?” I asked.
“Who’s he?” Xena said.
“He’s the S in S & M," I said. "He wrote The 120 Days of Sodom when he was a prisoner at the Bastille. The book gets more and more demented - even detailing what foods to eat to make your turds taste better.”
“Definitely not prison spaghetti sauce,” Xena said. “I’d like to read his book.” Xena turned to Repo and said,“Hey, Repo, how do ya like my nipples today?”
“I noticed that they’re hard,” Repo said.
“I have rubber bands around 'em. I keep 'em like that for two hours, but I have to remember to squeeze 'em.”
“Squeeze 'em?” I said.
“To keep the blood flowin’,” Xena paused, “and for sensual purposes. It’s a complicated procedure known only to a chosen few. When the two hours are up, they’ll stay hard for a day. You wanna see 'em, Repo?”
“I don’t wanna see your nips,” Repo said.“But I will wrap those elastic bands around your neck till your face turns blue.”
“It’s time for me to take 'em off anyway. You want one, Repo? You could chew on it – it’ll be like Hubba Bubba gum.”
“I don’t pitch or catch at any levels. Women like me too much,” Repo said.
“Whoops. I just farted,” Xena said.
“That’s the first time I’ve heard you fart,” Repo said. “What did ya do, attach a rubber band to your ass?”
“I have a bad prostrate. Haven’t you felt your prostrate before? Its just half an inch inside your anus.”
“That’s an exit only,” Repo said.
“You’ve never keystered anything?” Xena said.
“No! Nothin’ goes up my ass.”
“But you’ve gotta check your prostrate from time to time. Just sit down on the toilet, stick your finger in your butt, and you’ll feel a little lump. Checkin’ your prostrate isn’t a homosexual act, Repo, and besides, the greatest homophobes are the ones frontin’ their homosexuality.”
“I’m not homophobic. I don’t care what you put in your orifices, Xena.”
“If you’re not homophobic, then how about lettin’ me put some makeup on you?” Xena said.
“No!” Repo said.
“Just eye shadow?” Xena said.
“No,” Repo said.
By some fluke – or perhaps a kitchen worker’s prank – everyone was served green Jell-O (jelly) except for Repo and Xena who received red Jell-O.
“What’s this shit? I hate red fuckin’ Jell-O!" Repo's face flushed. "How come everyone got green Jell-O and I got red?” Repo yelled at the kitchen workers.
The chow hall went quiet as we waited for a response from the kitchen workers. But no response came, so Xena held up his tray and said, “Hey look everybody, I got red Jell-O too. And guess what? I checked the menu, and it says red Jell-O’s what they’re givin’ all the girls tonight.”
Everyone laughed at Repo.
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2006 Shaun P. Attwood
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
05 Jan 06
Long Island the Conqueror
On the eve of Long Island’s release, 11th Dec 05, we had the following chat:
“How long have you been in prison?” I asked.
“Fifty-six months,” Long Island said.
“How does it feel to be getting out?”
“I’m extremely scared…anxious…nervous…more than I ever thought I’d be."
“But aren’t you happy?”
“Yeah, of course I am, but other emotions are overshadowing my happiness right now. I’m not getting out expecting to fail like other guys who are happy to get out and rob, and get high and come back to prison. I’m happy to get out to build a life, and that’s gonna take everything I have, everything. Becoming a stockbroker is gonna take a lot of hard work. There are prejudices out there that I’m gonna have to face or manipulate my way around. I’ll need to keep my wits about me. I owe my family and others who’ve supported me financially and emotionally – not to let them down for instilling trust in me. I’m wondering whether to contact the girl I was with – but I’m scared that might set off a chain reaction of things I don’t want to deal with right now.”
“Had you and her been together long before your arrest?”
“Seven years.”
“What’s the first thing you want to do?”
“Have dinner with my family.” His face lit up at the thought. “And I’d like to sit at a bar and have a drink alone – hopefully a nice little barmaid will bring me a Stoli tonic.”
“How soon do you think you’ll achieve success?”
“I want a stockbroker’s license within six months. I’d like to be pulling six figures within three years.”
“Any marriage plans?”
“I wannabe married and starting a family by thirty-five." (Long Island is twenty-eight.)
“How many kids?”
“At least two.”
“Are you gonna stay in Phoenix?”
“Absolutely.”
“Are you gonna further your education?”
“I’ve got sixty-five college credits which is an associates degree. I’d like another sixty to get a B.A.”
“You will keep me updated on your progress, won't you?”
“I sure will. You created me, now I just have to go.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I’ve tried to glean as much knowledge of the financial markets as I could from you. Now I just have to apply it. You’ve transferred to me a wealth of knowledge. It’s like you said, ‘Here, read these books, and go and be rich’.”
“But remember, materialism isn’t everything. Look what happened to me.”
“I have a lot of catching up to do before I have to think about that.”
“Do you think success might go to your head?”
“I think it will go to my head. I welcome it!”
“You sound like Gordon Gecko – greed is good.”
“Gordon Gecko is antiquated.”
“To succeed in business you have to be cut-throat, but unscrupulous trading practices may land you back behind bars.”
“That won’t happen. I’m looking forward to bringing my love for the financial markets and integrity to whatever brokerage position I’m fortunate to land.”
“It’s been a pleasure being your celly. I’ll miss you loads.”
“Same here.”
“And I’ll be disappointed if you get in any future bother.”
“I have positive goals.”
“And good luck with them, my friend.”
“Thank you.”
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood
Long Island the Conqueror
On the eve of Long Island’s release, 11th Dec 05, we had the following chat:
“How long have you been in prison?” I asked.
“Fifty-six months,” Long Island said.
“How does it feel to be getting out?”
“I’m extremely scared…anxious…nervous…more than I ever thought I’d be."
“But aren’t you happy?”
“Yeah, of course I am, but other emotions are overshadowing my happiness right now. I’m not getting out expecting to fail like other guys who are happy to get out and rob, and get high and come back to prison. I’m happy to get out to build a life, and that’s gonna take everything I have, everything. Becoming a stockbroker is gonna take a lot of hard work. There are prejudices out there that I’m gonna have to face or manipulate my way around. I’ll need to keep my wits about me. I owe my family and others who’ve supported me financially and emotionally – not to let them down for instilling trust in me. I’m wondering whether to contact the girl I was with – but I’m scared that might set off a chain reaction of things I don’t want to deal with right now.”
“Had you and her been together long before your arrest?”
“Seven years.”
“What’s the first thing you want to do?”
“Have dinner with my family.” His face lit up at the thought. “And I’d like to sit at a bar and have a drink alone – hopefully a nice little barmaid will bring me a Stoli tonic.”
“How soon do you think you’ll achieve success?”
“I want a stockbroker’s license within six months. I’d like to be pulling six figures within three years.”
“Any marriage plans?”
“I wannabe married and starting a family by thirty-five." (Long Island is twenty-eight.)
“How many kids?”
“At least two.”
“Are you gonna stay in Phoenix?”
“Absolutely.”
“Are you gonna further your education?”
“I’ve got sixty-five college credits which is an associates degree. I’d like another sixty to get a B.A.”
“You will keep me updated on your progress, won't you?”
“I sure will. You created me, now I just have to go.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I’ve tried to glean as much knowledge of the financial markets as I could from you. Now I just have to apply it. You’ve transferred to me a wealth of knowledge. It’s like you said, ‘Here, read these books, and go and be rich’.”
“But remember, materialism isn’t everything. Look what happened to me.”
“I have a lot of catching up to do before I have to think about that.”
“Do you think success might go to your head?”
“I think it will go to my head. I welcome it!”
“You sound like Gordon Gecko – greed is good.”
“Gordon Gecko is antiquated.”
“To succeed in business you have to be cut-throat, but unscrupulous trading practices may land you back behind bars.”
“That won’t happen. I’m looking forward to bringing my love for the financial markets and integrity to whatever brokerage position I’m fortunate to land.”
“It’s been a pleasure being your celly. I’ll miss you loads.”
“Same here.”
“And I’ll be disappointed if you get in any future bother.”
“I have positive goals.”
“And good luck with them, my friend.”
“Thank you.”
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood
Saturday, January 21, 2006
03 Jan 06
Runny Nose
After lunch, Two Tonys and I noticed Ogre had a runny nose. Every so often, Ogre would wipe his nose with his sweater sleeves.
On the yard, laundry porters were distibuting our bags of clothes. Ogre started helping them.
"Look at that motherfucker spreadin' his germs around on our clothes," Two Tonys said to me, then yelled, “Hey Ogre, that ain’t your job. Why don’t you let the laundry porters do that?”
“Don’t worry about what I’m doin’. You ain’t no fuckin’ cop!” Ogre said.
“My fuckin’ laundry is in there, and I don’t want you touchin’ it,” Two Tonys said.
Ogre swaggered towards Two Tonys.
An F-16 swooshed overhead.
“Back off, motherfucker! Don’t get up on me,” Two Tonys said.
“I’ll snap your neck,” Ogre said, “and put you in hospital, motherfucker.”
“Do it then, motherfucker!” Two Tonys said.
They were about to collide when some Chicanos led by Frankie split them up.
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood
Jon’s book wishlist– he is allowed used or new books as long as they are sent direct from publishers such as Amazon.
Runny Nose
After lunch, Two Tonys and I noticed Ogre had a runny nose. Every so often, Ogre would wipe his nose with his sweater sleeves.
On the yard, laundry porters were distibuting our bags of clothes. Ogre started helping them.
"Look at that motherfucker spreadin' his germs around on our clothes," Two Tonys said to me, then yelled, “Hey Ogre, that ain’t your job. Why don’t you let the laundry porters do that?”
“Don’t worry about what I’m doin’. You ain’t no fuckin’ cop!” Ogre said.
“My fuckin’ laundry is in there, and I don’t want you touchin’ it,” Two Tonys said.
Ogre swaggered towards Two Tonys.
An F-16 swooshed overhead.
“Back off, motherfucker! Don’t get up on me,” Two Tonys said.
“I’ll snap your neck,” Ogre said, “and put you in hospital, motherfucker.”
“Do it then, motherfucker!” Two Tonys said.
They were about to collide when some Chicanos led by Frankie split them up.
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood
Jon’s book wishlist– he is allowed used or new books as long as they are sent direct from publishers such as Amazon.
Friday, January 20, 2006
Sunday, January 15, 2006
31 Dec 05
The Final Visit: Parents and Mothers Against Arpaio
“What’s the strip-search like here?” Mum asked.
“Same as usual, but they search the foreskin,” I said.
“Bloody hell! That’s a bit rum isn’t it? What are they looking for in there?” Dad said.
“Does it hurt?” Mum asked.
“No,” I laughed. “I just pull it back. It’s sensitive down there, but I have to agree with those who claim that the sensitivity causes you to enjoy sex more.”
“Perhaps we should get you circumcised then, to calm you down,” Mum said.
“Mum!” I said.
“Perhaps I should get a false one then,” Dad said with a hint of resentment towards Nan who’d had him snipped in infancy.
“You were almost circumcised once,” Mum said.
“But Dr. O’Hara – an Irish doctor from the old school - saved you,” Dad said.
“You had an infection, and your nan, an ex-nurse, was pushing to get you circumcised, but we took you to Dr. O’ Hara who turned your penis inside out, while you screamed blue murder,” Mum said matter-of–factly, whilst demonstrating with her hands what Dr. O’Hara had done.
“Ouch!” I said, “How old was I?”
“Ten months. The doctor said that what he did was better than circumcision.”
“We don’t know how it worked, but it did the trick.” Dad said.
This conversation came to a halt with the arrival of Pearl Wilson, one of the founders of Mothers Against Arpaio, and Linda Bentley, a reporter for the Sonoran News. It was an honour to meet these two humanitarians.
Pearl mentioned how she and fellow MAA founder, Linda Saville, had attended an Arpaio speaking function. Arpaio was boasting about his abilty to solve murders when Linda Saville asked him about his inability to solve murders at his jails. Arpaio responded that there were no murders at his jails, so Pearl stood up and pointed out that her son had been murdered in Arpaio’s Tent City. Unable to dispute this, Arpaio slandered Pearl, and continued his spiel. Pearl Wilson is one of the strongest women I have ever met, and it is truly hard to imagine the burden of pain she has bravely shouldered since losing her son Philip.
The pleasant company prevented Mum from getting too upset when the visit ended. Tears welled but didn’t stream down her face. What, I thought, have my mistakes put my parents through? Long hugs and short kisses filled the final moments with those whom I love the most.
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2004-2005 Shaun P. Attwood
Jon’s book wishlist – he is allowed used or new books as long as they are sent direct from publishers such as Amazon.
The Final Visit: Parents and Mothers Against Arpaio
“What’s the strip-search like here?” Mum asked.
“Same as usual, but they search the foreskin,” I said.
“Bloody hell! That’s a bit rum isn’t it? What are they looking for in there?” Dad said.
“Does it hurt?” Mum asked.
“No,” I laughed. “I just pull it back. It’s sensitive down there, but I have to agree with those who claim that the sensitivity causes you to enjoy sex more.”
“Perhaps we should get you circumcised then, to calm you down,” Mum said.
“Mum!” I said.
“Perhaps I should get a false one then,” Dad said with a hint of resentment towards Nan who’d had him snipped in infancy.
“You were almost circumcised once,” Mum said.
“But Dr. O’Hara – an Irish doctor from the old school - saved you,” Dad said.
“You had an infection, and your nan, an ex-nurse, was pushing to get you circumcised, but we took you to Dr. O’ Hara who turned your penis inside out, while you screamed blue murder,” Mum said matter-of–factly, whilst demonstrating with her hands what Dr. O’Hara had done.
“Ouch!” I said, “How old was I?”
“Ten months. The doctor said that what he did was better than circumcision.”
“We don’t know how it worked, but it did the trick.” Dad said.
This conversation came to a halt with the arrival of Pearl Wilson, one of the founders of Mothers Against Arpaio, and Linda Bentley, a reporter for the Sonoran News. It was an honour to meet these two humanitarians.
Pearl mentioned how she and fellow MAA founder, Linda Saville, had attended an Arpaio speaking function. Arpaio was boasting about his abilty to solve murders when Linda Saville asked him about his inability to solve murders at his jails. Arpaio responded that there were no murders at his jails, so Pearl stood up and pointed out that her son had been murdered in Arpaio’s Tent City. Unable to dispute this, Arpaio slandered Pearl, and continued his spiel. Pearl Wilson is one of the strongest women I have ever met, and it is truly hard to imagine the burden of pain she has bravely shouldered since losing her son Philip.
The pleasant company prevented Mum from getting too upset when the visit ended. Tears welled but didn’t stream down her face. What, I thought, have my mistakes put my parents through? Long hugs and short kisses filled the final moments with those whom I love the most.
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2004-2005 Shaun P. Attwood
Jon’s book wishlist – he is allowed used or new books as long as they are sent direct from publishers such as Amazon.
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