3) Bud

His name is Robert Bud…

He told me to just call him Bud. This had to be the nerdiest dude I’d ever seen in my life. He was bi-racial — Asian and white — with blotchy skin and hair that looked like it hadn’t seen soap in weeks.

We were sitting in the holding cell waiting to get processed in. I had my back against the wall, watching everything like you learn to do, while Bud paced the floor like a man whose nerves were about to snap.

Every few minutes he’d stop and ask me the same question.

“Do you think I’m gonna need a shank?”

How the hell should I know?

All this shank talk was making me uneasy. The way he kept asking it, over and over, like he was already planning something or already scared of something.

Finally they called my name and started processing me in.

The guard asked me the standard question:
“Do you feel suicidal?”

I told him no.

But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t shake the thought of Bud standing there behind me, pacing that floor, and I imagined him doing something crazy — like slitting his wrist right there in front of the guard.

And the crazy part was… I wouldn’t even have been surprised.