Story #1: Gore and the sex offender
A week into my stay at County I moved to a new tank, as the one I had previously been in still did not have a bed for me to sleep in. When I moved into my new tank a guy asked me if I could draw and I told him "well I'm pretty good at graffiti type shit." Upon hearing this, a black guy (who for some reason, seemed oddly familiar) approached me and asked me if I wrote on the outs. I told him that I did and he asked me what I wrote, when I told him, he started acting all hard and telling me we were gonna go heads up because I had started beef with his homie. I asked him what he wrote, and quickly realized why he looked familiar... He was Gore 3A. Gore is a black dude of medium build who is basically nuts... really, I don't think he would even argue with that statement. After that got resolved we started kickin it and telling stories. After a couple days we soon found out that a guy who slept near us was a registered sex offender, hilarity ensues. It began with little things, the sex offender would regularly do creepy things such as getting uncomfortably close you your face when he would talk to you, saying your name at least twice in every sentence and looking at you with a sort of longing only a Newyork Jew sex offender can communicate. So, we stopped talking to him. Now when I say we, I don't mean me and Gore, I mean EVERYONE in the tank, all at once, with absolutely no explaination as far as far as he knew. Then, we stopped sharing our food with him. If you know about jail, that can be a pretty big deal, portions are small and extra food helps a lot when you're in a shitty situation and you're always hungry. Next came the two best actions rolled into one I've ever experienced. The sex offender falls asleep and I tell Gore "dude you should totally wipe the rim of his cup around your asshole." Gore responds "Say I won't dog." Now, say I won't is a very popular phrase around Gore's group of friends basically communicating, I'm crazy, down for anything, and if you say I won't do it, I most certainly will. So of course, I say "you won't" knowing full well what is about to happen next. Gore takes the rapist's cup into the bathroom and proceeds to wipe the rim around his asshole. We then woke the Mr. S.O. up and asked him if he wanted a cup of coffee, he excitedly replied yes and we poured him some coffee laughing into our pillows in a mix of hilarity and disgust that I would not soon forget. He mix some water into it and began to drink, but soon set it down and went back to sleep. At this point I upped the ante, pulling out several ass hairs and dropping them into his coffee. We woke him back up and told him he had to finish his coffee because it was disrespectful to waste something someone had given you. He finished the coffee, and I swear I will never forget the look on his face as he fished around his mouth saying "huh, I think there's a hair in my coffee."
Story #2: Work release, Miami and the Disney Channel
When I finally got moved to work release, I was first placed in the tank 10B. Upon entering the tank I immediately met the people who would become my friends. Chris, Jamie, Miles, Miami and even though he turned out to be a complete and total fag I had a shortlived friendship with Luis as well. As I quickly noticed, Work Release was a lot different than jail. You could wear your own clothes, there were vending machines to purchase food from, and microwaves that you could prepare said food in. My first contact was with Chris, a 5'5" white guy from Federal Way who was in on several drug charges. He enjoyed his methanphetamines before he went to jail, to say the least. He was also one of the funniest and coolest people who I had met in the jail system. We talked alot and even though we had very different drugs of choice, we ended up having alot in common. Chris did have one problem though, his farts were by far the most disgustingly foul smells that I could ever imagine being produced by the human body. On several occasions he cleared entire rooms. Jamie, who will really make appearances much later in a different story was another white guy probably around 5'10" who has one of the most hilariously sarcastic personalities ever. Miles was a slightly overweight, 5'9" black dude who told some of the funniest stories and had alot of experience in some of the areas I had previously been involved in preceding my arrest: buddhas, glocks, dolphins, and other related objects (if you know what I'm talking about then you get what I just referred to, if you don't, I'm not going any further so just forget I said anything.) Miami was ridiculous. The only way to describe him is to take Coolio's head and put it on Celly Cel's body, and then throw in a South Eastern accent that was almost impossible to understand, ending each sentence with the phrase "know what I mean?" We'll get to Luis later. Anyways, Miami's favorite and only thing that he liked to watch was NBA basketball. Now don't get me wrong, I enjoy the occasional sports game on TV, but this was all the time, no seriously ALL THE TIME. It wasn't that anyone was afraid of him, or wouldn't speak up about watching something else. It was much more of a respect issue, Miami had been in the tank for longer than anyone else and as a result had more say than anyone else on what went on there. So after about a week straight of watching nothing but NBA during the time slot on TV when some of the best shows and movies are on Miles decided to mess with Miami. About half way through the game, Miami got up and went to get something from his cell, when he did this Miles got up and changed the channel to the Disney channel. Miami came in and laughingly asked us "What the fuck is this shit?" He changed it back and finished the game. About a week later Miles did the same thing, but this time he turned the TV off. It just so happened that right as Miami walked in the room the guard was making his hourly round of the tank. Miami asked the guard if he saw who turned off the show he was watching and the guard said he hadn't. As Miami turned the Television back on the guard stood there laughing. "So, you like Dora the Explorer?" The guard asked Miami. I don't think I've ever laughed that hard over the Disney Channel.
Story #3: Cigarettes, Cell Phones, Pruno and the Snitch.
Now we can talk about Luis. He was a 5'11" white kid, a month or two older than me who bore a striking resemblence to the Sherminator from American Pie. He had bright red hair and freckles and frankly thought himself the shit. He did teach me a few useful things, like how to bring in cigarettes, and your cell phone, as well as how to smoke in a strictly non smoking building. I taught him how to make pruno, and I thought for a small amount of time, how to keep it real. I was so very very wrong. He seemed pretty cool at first, maybe a little square but hey, those are the people that make it a lot easier for me to look good in front of girls. But then he started acting funny, and not like Dave Chapelle funny, or even though I hate him Dane Cook funny. It was more of a This motherfucker is retarded and needs to get his ass beat kind of funny. Every time even the smallest detail in his life didn't go exactly as planned he would basically throw temper tantrums, punching walls and sulking in corners by himself. Along with these cry baby sessions, he also began raising prices on his cigarettes and acting like a bitch in general, starting fights he knew he couldn't win and then backing out of them. So starting about three days before he was supposed to leave everything just went to shit. First, he gets caught smoking in his cell, but the guard doesn't see who it is. So he tells us that we aren't gonna be able to use the vending machines if someone didn't come forward. So we threaten him with a royal ass beating if he doesn't turn himself in. He finally does and comes back all moody and cry babyish but the shit show has just begun. About an hour later the guard walks through and finds a bag of pruno that Luis has hidden in a common area of the tank. The guards threaten the same punishment, ten minutes later he announces that he is going to take the wrap for this also. He walks out to the guard station talks for several minutes and then comes back in. However when it came time to use the vending machines they announced that we were not allowed to use the vending machines, and around the same time the guards "randomly search" 3 people's cells who sell cigarettes in other tanks. It turns out he didn't turn himself in but instead snitched out other cigarette dealers to get out of trouble. So it may seem like there is no justice in the world sometimes, but this was not one of those times, two days later on midnight the day he was supposed to leave, the guards came into our tank and arrested Luis on a warrant in Grant County... Karma is a Bitch. But saying that, I caught my own dose of karma the day after I laughed my ass off about Luis getting arrested, I got caught with my cell phone and got moved to a new tank.
Story #2: Work release, Miami and the Disney Channel
When I finally got moved to work release, I was first placed in the tank 10B. Upon entering the tank I immediately met the people who would become my friends. Chris, Jamie, Miles, Miami and even though he turned out to be a complete and total fag I had a shortlived friendship with Luis as well. As I quickly noticed, Work Release was a lot different than jail. You could wear your own clothes, there were vending machines to purchase food from, and microwaves that you could prepare said food in. My first contact was with Chris, a 5'5" white guy from Federal Way who was in on several drug charges. He enjoyed his methanphetamines before he went to jail, to say the least. He was also one of the funniest and coolest people who I had met in the jail system. We talked alot and even though we had very different drugs of choice, we ended up having alot in common. Chris did have one problem though, his farts were by far the most disgustingly foul smells that I could ever imagine being produced by the human body. On several occasions he cleared entire rooms. Jamie, who will really make appearances much later in a different story was another white guy probably around 5'10" who has one of the most hilariously sarcastic personalities ever. Miles was a slightly overweight, 5'9" black dude who told some of the funniest stories and had alot of experience in some of the areas I had previously been involved in preceding my arrest: buddhas, glocks, dolphins, and other related objects (if you know what I'm talking about then you get what I just referred to, if you don't, I'm not going any further so just forget I said anything.) Miami was ridiculous. The only way to describe him is to take Coolio's head and put it on Celly Cel's body, and then throw in a South Eastern accent that was almost impossible to understand, ending each sentence with the phrase "know what I mean?" We'll get to Luis later. Anyways, Miami's favorite and only thing that he liked to watch was NBA basketball. Now don't get me wrong, I enjoy the occasional sports game on TV, but this was all the time, no seriously ALL THE TIME. It wasn't that anyone was afraid of him, or wouldn't speak up about watching something else. It was much more of a respect issue, Miami had been in the tank for longer than anyone else and as a result had more say than anyone else on what went on there. So after about a week straight of watching nothing but NBA during the time slot on TV when some of the best shows and movies are on Miles decided to mess with Miami. About half way through the game, Miami got up and went to get something from his cell, when he did this Miles got up and changed the channel to the Disney channel. Miami came in and laughingly asked us "What the fuck is this shit?" He changed it back and finished the game. About a week later Miles did the same thing, but this time he turned the TV off. It just so happened that right as Miami walked in the room the guard was making his hourly round of the tank. Miami asked the guard if he saw who turned off the show he was watching and the guard said he hadn't. As Miami turned the Television back on the guard stood there laughing. "So, you like Dora the Explorer?" The guard asked Miami. I don't think I've ever laughed that hard over the Disney Channel.
Story #3: Cigarettes, Cell Phones, Pruno and the Snitch.
Now we can talk about Luis. He was a 5'11" white kid, a month or two older than me who bore a striking resemblence to the Sherminator from American Pie. He had bright red hair and freckles and frankly thought himself the shit. He did teach me a few useful things, like how to bring in cigarettes, and your cell phone, as well as how to smoke in a strictly non smoking building. I taught him how to make pruno, and I thought for a small amount of time, how to keep it real. I was so very very wrong. He seemed pretty cool at first, maybe a little square but hey, those are the people that make it a lot easier for me to look good in front of girls. But then he started acting funny, and not like Dave Chapelle funny, or even though I hate him Dane Cook funny. It was more of a This motherfucker is retarded and needs to get his ass beat kind of funny. Every time even the smallest detail in his life didn't go exactly as planned he would basically throw temper tantrums, punching walls and sulking in corners by himself. Along with these cry baby sessions, he also began raising prices on his cigarettes and acting like a bitch in general, starting fights he knew he couldn't win and then backing out of them. So starting about three days before he was supposed to leave everything just went to shit. First, he gets caught smoking in his cell, but the guard doesn't see who it is. So he tells us that we aren't gonna be able to use the vending machines if someone didn't come forward. So we threaten him with a royal ass beating if he doesn't turn himself in. He finally does and comes back all moody and cry babyish but the shit show has just begun. About an hour later the guard walks through and finds a bag of pruno that Luis has hidden in a common area of the tank. The guards threaten the same punishment, ten minutes later he announces that he is going to take the wrap for this also. He walks out to the guard station talks for several minutes and then comes back in. However when it came time to use the vending machines they announced that we were not allowed to use the vending machines, and around the same time the guards "randomly search" 3 people's cells who sell cigarettes in other tanks. It turns out he didn't turn himself in but instead snitched out other cigarette dealers to get out of trouble. So it may seem like there is no justice in the world sometimes, but this was not one of those times, two days later on midnight the day he was supposed to leave, the guards came into our tank and arrested Luis on a warrant in Grant County... Karma is a Bitch. But saying that, I caught my own dose of karma the day after I laughed my ass off about Luis getting arrested, I got caught with my cell phone and got moved to a new tank.
Story #4: My New Tank is Cool, and My Celly is Crackin (literally)
So the new tank I got moved to was 11D, known fondly as 11 dirty. Before I got moved there I had heard rumors about this tank. I heard that you could find any drug under the sun there, that people were smoking sherm in the bathroom and selling crack in the t.v. room. None of these rumors really turned out to be true, but as you can imagine, I was excited for the freak show to begin. As soon as I entered the new tank I walked to my new bunk and introduced myself to my new celly. This would be the second black guy I would meet while incarcerated to look incredibly familiar. I soon realized where I recognized him from, he was the guy in the intake cell on the bottom floor of king county talking about how much crack he smoked, and the only person I really talked to. We'll call him Black. Black and I get to talking and I tell him I've been smuggling in cigarettes, he's been selling them (I see a business friendship forming already!!). So then I go about meeting the rest of my tank members. Brazy, Mike, Jamie (remember him?), Rick and Robert. I began talking to them and making friends. Everyone in this tank was a lot calmer and kept to themselves. I reminded me less of high school than my last tank had. People did smoke weed in the bathroom and while I never really participated it was nice to be able to smell and be around. So one day I came back from work to another familiar smell in my cell. This smell is unlike any other in the world. I walked into my cell and it reeked of crack. I laughed as my celly turned to me with the widest smile I had seen on anyone since I'd been in jail. He pulled out the rose (or crack pipe for those who don't know their drug paraphernalia) and a LARGE rock of crack. He then pushed it towards me saying something to the effect of "hit the roca jacky boy!" I considered this. Did I really wanna be high, on crack, in jail? I know, seems like a hard decision right? Hell no. So I watched him do the 10 to 2 (another crack smoking term referring to the 10 o'clock to 2 o'clock position that you rotate the pipe), and then proceed to clean the entire tank.... Awesome, awesome.
Pt. 2 coming later
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