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Edited by: Jennifer Gibbs
KARMA
“Five more fucking days,” I stated proudly in the yard as the other inmates went on their merry way of making drug deals, exchanging cigarettes for sexual favors, or beating the hell out of someone younger, weaker, or unconnected.
The older men hang their heads as they walk together in an array of faded titian jumpsuits, silently counting down the days until death sets them free. They make small talk, give the occasional nod to show respect, they control what comes in and out of the prison, and because of that they are safe from harm - for now.
Life on the inside of a prison is not one for the meek or mild. It’s a lesson in surviving. The older men will never be released, all they can hope for now is a slow death from natural causes and not a harsh ending caused by men like me inside these walls.
“I’m out in the morning,” Ty responded as he took a cigarette out and lit it. “I’m not going to be the warden’s bitch anymore.”
“I got another six months for that fight in the cafeteria,” Dagger whined like a little kid with his jumpsuit top tied around his waist and a white tank that clung tightly to him in the heat. In the sea of orange, he stood out, when all he needs to do is blend in for six more months.
“I told you to fucking handle that after dinner in the laundry room. I was there waiting to help. All. Damn. Night,” I rolled my eyes and pulled out my cigarette pack. I shook my head as he rambled on about right and wrong.
When other men went to prison, they found God, an education, or a new found respect for fellatio. When Dagger spent time in the clink, he didn’t find anything. Not a damn thing. Motherfucker didn’t even learn how to handle things without getting caught. He refused to grow up.
“You’re asking for the guards to take away your privileges again for wearing your jumpsuit like that,” Ty warned Dagger, but he merely shrugged.
“You know you look like the center of a burnt bloody Twinkie,” I inhaled and let out smoke rings to pass the time as Dagger looked around at everyone and then down at his clothes.
“No Boss,” he shook his head. “I’m cum on a carrot’s dick.”
“Vegetables do not have genitals,” I immediately wanted to draw the words back. This is not a conversation I wanted to have in the yard where everyone listened for vulnerabilities, and guards turned a blind eye.
“Careful K, your education is showing,” Ty warned as eyes drifted toward me. Men considered a proper speaking biker to be a weakness, so even though I completed a degree inside the concrete walls and metal cages of this prison, I still had to be the person I was before that piece of paper came.
“You say there is no such thing, but have you ever seen some of those veggies and how they grow a nub here or there. True veggies get hard. Organic veggies grow a penis - its anatomy,” he seemed proud of his theory. Ty walked off, shaking his head while I stood there with Dagger and continued smoking.
“I’ll send you some carrots with cocks then when I get out,” that was all it took to get him on another subject.
“Oh, that reminds me I need you to send me -,” he continued on as I smirked. Some things would never change. Dagger was all about Dagger.
A guard walked up and passed me a note. I opened it to see three names written on it and the letter C. The warden’s hit list. One day I wouldn’t have to answer to men like him. One day soon, I wouldn’t have to be anyone’s bitch.
I turned and looked at the officer who tipped his hat, telling me to carry out the orders as the horns sounded to leave the yard. The sun was setting, and it was time to go in for the required bed check before dinner. I put out my cigarette on the bottom of my jailhouse shoes. Dagger and I gave a nod to Ty, who wanted no part in what we had to do, and we headed back inside toward the prison library.
“What are you going to do first when you get out?” Dagger asked. His lips never seemed to stop moving and his mouth never stopped trying to make conversation.
“Drink, fuck, kill, get high,” I answered without a thought as they buzzed us through a door. We then turned down the white brick hallway as the guards went on break. “Maybe not in that order.”
“When I get out, I want to go to Disneyland,” Dagger smiled as we headed into the library and moved a bookcase to walk back behind it and get down to C block.
“You want to go to the happiest place on Earth, get some mouse ears, and pretend we haven’t just spent the last three years in prison?”
“I knew you understood me,” he laughed, and I walked away wondering if he was high. There were drugs you could get in prison. Nowhere near anything good, but if you needed a small reminder of what life was like on the outside that would help give you a taste.
The corridor was long and winding as we walked between the concrete walls of the prison. No one ever came through here except for us. As we passed my blood calendars of everyone I had to take out, and the days I had survived, I prepared to do the only thing it seemed I was good at.
Killing.
“You ready to do this?” I questioned Dagger, but his response was to pull out his blade while wearing a shit-eating grin. Dagger was a lot of things: childish, sometimes idiotic, a food groupie, and he thought of himself as a comedian, but more than that he was loyal to a fault, and brutal when crossed. I often remembered the first time we were sent to kill anyone.
Dagger had attacked the man without blinking and when it was over, I saw the lust in his eyes from the damage he caused. The man’s body was torn into pieces and scattered across a parking garage next to the prison. Dagger, entranced by the blood, wanted to play in it like a little kid finding finger paint. Later, when we realized it wasn’t the right man, I watched a Joker-like smile cross his face and he wanted to murder someone better. He found the right man and used his body and blood like an art display. We had all known that something was different about Dagger, and the boss used it to his advantage, to take out his enemies.
“Avoid the head, throat, and arteries so you don’t get much blood on you. We can’t allow it to follow us out.”
He gave me the nod, telling me he understood, but his bottom lip was nearly pouting with the sad face he wore.
