thebottle Blog

I was being lightly patted down as I looked around at the white concrete walls, florescent lights, and metal doors.

“Do you have any weapons or drugs on you?”

“Yeah, I have a weapon of mass destruction in my pants.”

“Alright asshole, follow me.”

Through heavy metal doors, into an elevator, and down to the booking station. My escort walked over to another guard and began looking at a chart on the wall.

“This is Anthony…” (long pause)

“or is this Adam?”

“Is this Anthony?”

I turned around.

“Yeah, I’m Tony.”

He looked like he wanted to twist my head off.

“What’s the matter? Can’t you hear?”

What a dumbfuck, of course I could hear. I thought he was talking to the other guard who knew my name and was standing right next to him looking at the same chart. We walked over to a desk where he asked me his questions, then he gave me itchy sheets and orange clothes, and escorted me to my cell.

“Want to play some cards?”

“Sure, what do you wanna play?”

I lost about 4/5 times in everything we played. I quit and went back to my cell to get my towel and stroke my cock up to what I deemed to be a reasonable size for the black boys that were on my block, then I stripped and sauntered over to the showers.

“Wanna play some more cards?”

The food is bad, it is served cold. Besides this, the water tastes like it was pumped in from a dirty puddle. The favored meal items are the juice or the milk being that these items are not susceptible to the fuck-ups that seem to be so constant.

“Alright, you want to put some wagers down on the next few games?”

“Whatcha got?”

“I have some gum, I can bet that and my juice against your juice.”

My losing streak came to an abrupt end. I ended the day with about a weeks worth of juice IOUs, and I was content in knowing that I wouldn’t have to drink the smelly water any time soon.

I walked to my cell and laid down on the mat looking up at the dim florescent light. Wet pages, now dry, were stuck to it in an attempt to block it out. It always stays on, even when you sleep, I hate it. I pulled my blindfold out of my sock, tied it around my eyes, and crawled under a sheet.

There isn’t much to do in jail: watch TV, play cards, sleep. When you get bored with one activity you choose your next from the very limited selection and this becomes a repeated cycle. Soon the entire cycle becomes boring and you feel like crashing your head into the white concrete walls just to do something different.

“Griebtroff.”

A voice over an intercom called my name and I was brought out into the hallway.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Your name is I’m Fine?”

“Err, no, I thought you said how are you. Tony.”

“Well, don’t you have a last name?”

“Yeah, Griebtroff.”

He talked very aggressively, snotty really, and it pissed me off, but I calmed myself down. I was getting out soon, I wasn’t going to ruin a good mood over an asshole. He put me in another hallway and then told me and another inmate to wait. 15 minutes later he reappeared.

“Griebtroff, right?”

“Yeah, don’t you remember?”

“How am I supposed to remember? Do I know you? Do we hang out together?”

I was a bit surprised, he was angry and on the verge of yelling.

“Tell me something, are you always an asshole or just when you put that uniform on in the morning?”

“Oh, so you’re going to cop an attitude with me, huh?”

“When in Rome…”

He pretended to write something down on a piece of paper and then he left. I looked over and smiled at the kid next to me, but instead of seeing the mirrored smile which I expected to see, I saw a look of worry. “He’s a cocksucker,” I said. It didn’t appear to comfort him. 40 minutes later the guard came back and brought us to the booking office to be processed. When he saw to it that we made it to the desk he turned around and started on his way out.

“You can keep Griebtroff!”

A guard behind the desk asked him what he said, but he gave no response as he stormed out through the door.

“Wow, he isn’t in a good mood today.”

I looked up at her as I was signing my name and smiled.

“I’m sorry, that may be my fault.”

She laughed.

“That’s fine for you, but we have to work with him for the next 8 hours.”

I went through a maze of halls and then I got onto an elevator and waited to be sent down. I heard someone yell something indiscernible behind the half-mirrored glass across the hall so I stepped out of the elevator.

“What did you say?”

“GET BACK ON THE ELEVATOR!”

I quickly got back on the elevator.

“I thought you said something to me.”

“You know we talk to each other back here.”

She said it in a really snobby manner much like the other guard. Another miserable fuck I thought. Still, the way she said it, and I couldn’t think of anything to yell back, it just about killed me. The elevator doors closed.

Just think, I almost apologized to the cunt. I would have never forgiven myself. That reminds me of another time when I was a bit younger and got into some trouble. This cop on a bicycle decided to give me a chase. I gave him a good run but eventually my lungs just couldn’t take it anymore. Later I went down to the copshop and apologized to the prick. You know what he said?

“I don’t care if you apologize to me, I’m not showing you any leniency.”

I couldn’t believe it, I didn’t ask for leniency. There I was giving him a sincere apology and he had to go and ruin it by saying something like that. He wheeled his chair out from behind the desk and showed me his left knee.

“Do you see that? Right there. Do you see that? Look. That is from when I tried to tackle you.”

I looked at his knee, he had a quarter-sized scab, but you would have thought I broke his leg the way he moaned about it. I apologized to him again and then he had nerve enough to tell me that I ought to be sorry. Jesus Christ, that really got me, why the fuck did he think I was there? I’ve always regretted apologizing to him that second time; I should have just walked out after he started crying about his knee; it wasn’t my fault he tried to tackle me and missed.

Yeah, I’ve realized that cops are assholes, the majority of them anyway. When I was a kid I always looked up to cops. I might have seen a cop sitting in a restaurant with his gun at his side and his badge gleaming in the sunlight and just admired the hell out of him for being so damn honorable. That was before I knew any of the pricks; protect and serve my ass. It’s their attitudes mostly; they demand an undeserved respect and when they don’t think they are getting it then they unnecessarily challenge you. I try…

The elevator doors opened and the sun from the lobby washed over my face.

It feels good to be out.