Entry Four
KILLER-K UNIT
Getting processed in was time-consuming…
They took my clothes and shoes and issued me prison garb. Brown khaki pants with matching shirts, three pairs of boxers, and three tee shirts. I was also issued bedding which consisted of two sheets, a pillow, a pillowcase, and one blanket. I wrapped everything up in the blanket and followed the guard to the unit that would house me.
I was hoping that crazy fucker Bud would go to a different unit, but unfortunately no such luck. As we approached the unit I noticed a sign that read “K-UNIT.” On top of the sign, someone had scribbled the word “KILLER” in pencil. I was almost sure that Bud noticed this also.
The guard unlocked the unit door, handed Bud and me a card that contained our pictures, and other information, and with a stupid smirk told us to enjoy our stay in California. “Welcome to Killer-K, mother fuckers!”
I don’t like this guard already.
Entry Five
TOP OR BOTTOM?
Just my luck…
Bud is in the cell right next to me. As soon as I walked in the cell the weight of the situation hit me. The room consisted of a bunk bed and a toilet/sink combo. The floors are cold concrete. The only positive thing is the fact that I don’t have a cellmate yet, so I have my choice of the top or bottom bunk. I chose the top because the air vent blows directly on me.
I didn’t even have time to piss before Bud showed up. He wanted me to ask somebody for a cigarette for him. That kind of pissed me off, so I responded kind of heatedly, “Nigga, you ask somebody!” But as I looked around I understood. The majority of the people were either black or brown. Bud was a part of the minority for the first time in his life I bet.
I introduced myself to a Brother playing the second tier close to my cell. I asked him politely how the phone situation worked. He immediately asked if I was from New York. I think my accent gave me away. He introduced me to a nigga named Randy, from Brooklyn. The coldest coincidence is that Randy lived right around the corner from me on Putnam Ave. We talked for a while and he hooked me up with a little care package, which consisted of soap, deodorant, toothpaste, a few snacks, and of course cigarettes. I gave Bud a pack on the promise that he give me two packs back in return… The HUSTLE never stops.
Entry Six
BIG ROB
Got a celli today…
They put a Mexican in the cell with me at first. I wasn’t really tripping but, Randy schooled me real quick. Ethnic races don’t mix. Apparently, the Mexican’s homies must have taken him to the side also, because he ain’t even unpack his shit. He ended up moving downstairs to the flats with another Mexican.
The unit manager, Mrs. Rodriguez let me use the phone to call home today. I called my grandmother. As soon as I heard her voice my eyes grew misty. She filled me in on what was going on with my family. Apparently, my sister is doing very well and my brother is doing what he do. I’ve also got a niece named Isis that I haven’t seen yet. I love that name.
Anyway, I shot my grandmother my info so she could send me some loot. I hate borrowing shit from niggas. Especially flip-flops, which are mandatory if you want to wash your ass in those filthy ass shower stalls.
By the time I got off the phone with my grandmother, I had a new cellie. His name is Robert an older brother from Florida (Not to be confused with Robert Budd). We hit it off pretty well. The one thing that stands out most about Rob is the fact that you can tell he works out. His arms and chest are massive, but this nigga got a HUMONGOUS HEAD… Giant! I even started calling him Big Rob. He doesn’t seem to mind.