[So no Soap — And Sounds of Silence — Random words — No acts of violence — Crackers,
Soon after the three of us were settled in the stone cell, Boris, Frank Needy and me, the metal door slid open and dinner was announced and dished out in three luxuriously plastic wrapped bricks, just like the brick I had seen earlier next to the other criminal. "Dinner," the woman guard announced. I had heard of the Black Guerrilla Group impregnating of the female staff and jumped to the conclusion that this guard might have used birth control. Any conclusion jumped is nevertheless not foregone. The lady was being assisted by Black Men in tan jump suits. "Only Black men get those jobs," Frank Needy told me. I had a heel of bread in my plastic wrapped brick.
There were more white guys in the cell I occupied than there seemed to be in the rest of the detention center. I hadn't seen a single Latino nor Asian though at this point most of the time was spent in quiet isolation. "Ya got vegan," I inquired. The woman smiled. "A mocha latte, maybe?" The door was slid shut hiding the shadow of a smile and also my own smiling with the missing tooth always on my mind. I've actually never really minded the dentist though affordability sadly pushes dental care down the list of priorities. Recalling the many false teeth in glass on so many shelves and tables over the years is one of the more absurd memories of transitional generations. Like thick glasses in lieu of further cataract surgery where technology has filled one or more the inconvenient gap. Of course, there must be inept surgeons that still practice surgery for the money if not the passion.
As mentioned there was a stainless steel toilet and Sink with a Fountain slightly above the toilet slightly off to the side. It had been hours since I had a drink of water and I was convinced that it would be hours more before any thirst quenching beverage. I rinsed and spat whenever the option was afforded. Whenever I spat the solution was milky which convinced me not to swallow. There had been no access to any soap since entering the lockup. This was further motivation to abstain from eating nor drinking the orange whatever in a seal-a-meal plastic bubble.
I asked my cell mates if they wanted my brick and Frank Needy asked for the mayonnaise packet. I gave him the crackers also -- They might have been cookies -- I had convinced myself to fast so I didn't look too closely whether cracker or cookie. Boris accepted the rest of the brick and combined the two to siphon off what might be at all palatable. I really had no clue of how long the stay would be. From the back of my mind I recalled that the orange bracelet clipped on by the med-tech upon entrance to the gathering would make this party limited though any information I was being given was taken with a grain of salt. The system had been corrupted both within and for those without. "It's the stupid economy," Frank Needy said. Frank was in for assaulting a junky relative among other things including an outstanding warrant. Show up for work and court.
I knew that I had idiotically fallen into a so and so such a wonderful neighborly trap to end up in the concrete cell. I had lived in the same house for over ten years and because of the unique nature of the Green Space, the Parking for residents, responsibilities both shirked and accepted and a variety of renters, especially in the house directly next door where the Landlord cared less, there have been many incidents of limited confrontation. It had even come to blows with the Patagonian Electrician when he attacked me for picture taking. After playing rope-a-dope against an SUV while he pounded at my covered head, I got off one punch and stopped the fight. I still carry the reminder of a mended broken joint at the top of my middle finger. Once he was stopped from pounding on my hands and head, the neighbor immediately blamed me for hitting him first. That moment convinced me that I was not wrong in carrying a camera and documenting everything when it comes to walking out the front door. A picture is worth a thousand punches in this American Era of Competitive Ass-Holism.
A short time after dinner was served the woman guard returned with the two men in tan jumpsuits to sweep and retrieve anything to be discarded. For some odd reason after the door was slid shut, two empty cracker bags were pushed back into the cell.
"At some point they should slide your charge paper through the crack before you get to see the commissioner," Frank Needy told me. Boris stayed comfortably on the cold concrete floor in the back corner of the cell with his eyes closed. "On TV I've heard that the guilty man always sleeps," I said. -- "I'm not sleeping," Boris answered without moving anything but his lips. -->>Duda Duda