Lockup was a bitch. I had a 5’X7′ cell with a shoe box sized cloudy plastic window. The stainless steel toilet was too cold to firmly plant your buttocks for a proper expulsion. The mattress was piss-proof rubber and about 2 inches thick. The vinyl pillow was the size of a turkey breast. But, the worst thing was the desperate voices that screamed at lights out. Kids crying for their mamas. Broken down disposable children in real emotional pain. That shit haunted me more than anything else.
I spent many hours in my cell unable to sleep – just staring at the wall. My reading material consisted of exactly one fucking Dog Fancy magazine. When I got bored reading classifieds for $1,000 bitch ass French poodles I would do push-ups. It was during this time I severely contemplated my next moves in life (getting a fat steak and losing my pesky ass virginity).
Meal time was incredibly rushed. In seemed that our handlers got bonuses for wrapping it up quick. 5 minutes with a plastic spoon was the norm. You had to slop it up fast or the uneaten portion would disappear. You got punished for sharing food. I went to bed hungry every night. That had never happened to me before. If I closed my eyes long enough, the visions of pizza pies and hamburgers would dwindle away until the morning.
A couple of times a week visitors would come to see the inmates. We all sit in a large circular room with dozens of chairs lining the wall. There were few fathers or male visitors. Usually there would be a sad looking mum with several rug rats in tow. After visitation, we were marched into the gym for a strip search. Our captors took great delight in inspecting our twigs, berries, and rectal hideaways. Tis institutional life I reckon.
The days ran on in a monotonous flurry. Same shit every day, only the numbers on the calendar changed. I had almost become numb to my new environs until…I heard the guard bang on my door after 11:00 p.m. one night. “Get your ass up, your movin’ out tonight.” I asked him what was going on and he indicated that an extremely violent offender had just been brought in and that the facility was out of bed space. I didn’t probe the chap any further and followed him through the series of security doors. My old man was waiting for me in a t-shirt and wearing a scowl. They had wrecked his restful sleep by asking him to come pick up his garbage.