Entry Sixteen
H2 FUCKING UH-OH!
A shower never felt so good…
Me and Rob were the only ones in the shower because they were only letting one cell out at a time. There is a shower on each of the three floors. Each shower consists of four stalls. I chose the first stall, Rob took the fourth. Trust and believe a nigga wants that buffer zone.
In every prison movie, they always show a mother fucker drop the soap. My clumsy ass didn’t just drop the soap, I dropped the soap twice. Big Rob thought that was the funniest shit in the world.
On the way back to my cell Budd asked for more cigarettes. Budd is one smoking mother fucker. I sent him the cigarettes and less than ten minutes later he realized he was low on matches.
Too bad for him, because I only had one book left. Rob told me that you can split the matches down the middle and they would still work. It really does work. I sent Budd ten matches.
———-
I think the water here is making me sick. It tastes… really weird. Rob said “they” purposely don’t change the water filters, so you have to buy bottled water from the commissary.
Conspiracy???
Entry Seventeen
HERE’S JOHNNY!
I woke up screaming tonight…
I think I scared the shit out of Rob, but the nigga was low-key worried about me. I can’t remember the dream exactly, but it was about Officer Williams. He had come back from the dead and he was inside my cell. He was eating what was left of Rob’s mutilated body. He then stopped, pointed to me, and said, “You’re next, Emanuel. You’re next to die.” I can’t get that image out of my mind.
———-
Decided to start another book today. I’ve read twelve books already and we’ve only been on lock-down for 16 days. I almost forgot how much I enjoy reading. The only books left in my cell are 3 graphic novels called, “Johnny the Homicidal Maniac.”
———-
Okay, this is some sick shit! This is one of the most twisted and sick pieces of literature I have ever read. I love it! It’s all about this mentally disturbed kid who tortures and kills people in some of the most sadistic ways imaginable. He’s definitely delusional and paranoid, but I think there is a little bit of Johnny in all of us.
(Note to Self: I may have to become Johnny at times if I’m to survive the next decade.)
Entry Eighteen
A CHILD IS BORN
My cell door opened early this morning, during a 24-hour lockdown…
Rob and I were up immediately. Rob walked to the cell door, looked out, and said that only our cell was open. The guards called my name loudly before they even made it to my cell. I think it’s about the guard that got killed. Hell, they have cameras all over the prison. I’m sure those cameras caught me witnessing the whole incident. Two guards came to my cell and told me to cuff up. I asked them, “What is this about?” but they just told me to cuff up. As I got dressed I got my story straight in my head… “I ain’t see shit!” No matter what they say, “I ain’t see shit!”
As the guards cuffed me in the doorway I could see faces peeking out of every cell. The god, Mathematics was yelling out from the top tier. “Yo Hype, tell ’em you want to take a witness with you if you ain’t going to the hole.” That made a lot of sense. The last thing I want is to be perceived as a snitch. So, I put on my Johnny The Homicidal Maniac face and told the guard, ” If ya’ll not taking me to the hole, I ain’t leaving the unit without a witness.” The guard was cool about it and told me to, “Pick somebody quick.” I chose the god Mathematics. The guards opened Mathematics’s cell and told him to cuff up.
We left Killer-K and made our way toward the warden’s office. (I assumed this is where I would be questioned.) I slowed down as we approached the office, but the guards told me to, “keep it moving Emanuel.” Mathematics said that if they take us to the chapel someone in my family has probably died. I don’t know why the nigga would say something like that, but at that moment I became scared. My Grandmother is the bond that holds my family together. She’s pretty old and this ten-year bid ain’t help her health none.
“Yep, going to see the chappy, nigga.” That’s just how Mathematics said it. My stomach is doing cartwheels at this time and I’m feeling a little light-headed.
The guards walked us right up the stairs to the chaplain’s office. The chaplain was seated at his desk and told us to take a seat. I didn’t even have a chance to ask the Chaplain what was up when suddenly the phone rang. The chaplain put the phone on speaker and I heard a voice ask for Michael Emanuel. I was too nervous to answer. Mathematics gave me a little nudge and I found my voice.
As it turns out it was a hospital. The woman that I had been with prior to getting locked up had just given birth to a baby boy… I was a father. His name?…. RHAQIL JAMAR CAMBELL.
As soon as we got back to the unit Mathematics told the whole unit, “Hype’s a father, Yo!” Talk about putting a nigga on Front street. He even sent me a cigar. I ain’t talking ’bout one them Black & Mild joints either. I’m talking ’bout a real deal $4 cigar.
I still can’t believe I’m a father.