"That's not an original thought."
"I like to use adjectives."
"Your kite reads like alphabet soup!"
Letters from Home
As housing unit staff and custody staff, we are supposed
to scan the inmate's outgoing mail for threats, escape plans,
and the like. On occasion we happen to turn up some
interesting fabrications.
I have seen many inmates write home trying to make
their family think they really have it rough. They make up
shit from getting shot at by guards as if they are ducks on a
shooting gallery to having to defend themselves daily just to
keep their shoes from big black guys running around with
their dicks hanging out.
Then I read a letter from an inmate to his mother. He
missed her and how close they were. They were really
close; I mean really close. The things he mentioned that
he missed doing with his mother were more than I get from
my wife and girlfriends combined. His closing was, "I
can't wait to pee in your butt again." I had always wanted
to try that, but I really did not think it was possible. I mean,
having an erection, and peeing at the same time under very
constricted conditions. It was pretty disgusting reading
about it. Especially with his mother.
We had an old grandpa by the name of Frewsburg in the
unit who could not read or write. This was not uncommon.
If you think about all the different things that could land
you in prison, and the skills you might want that could keep
you out of prison, the pool of inmates would naturally have
a higher percentage of non-readers. I do not know how that
makes sense, but it does. Frewsburg recruited his bunkee
to write letters home for him. His younger bunkee did not
always write what he was told. Frewsburg was nicknamed
"Yoda." He made several statements that sounded like Yoda
from Star Wars, and his posture and hairy ears gave him the
physical resemblance as well.
The young perp would add some very perverted
comments for his own pleasure, thinking of the shock value
it would provide upon arrival at the home of Frewsburg's
spouse. Yoda's wife must have caught on, because her
replies began to refl ect an occasional positive response to
the unexpected orneriness. The whole unit knew what was
up except Frewsburg.
With my sympathetic nature for guys who do not get
laid, I am ashamed to admit this next bit of letter writing
humor. Inmate Dubry was a con man. He was in for a short
time, and would soon be heading off to work release, but he
could not help screwing with people before his departure.
When Dubry was back at the DEC, he convinced one guy
that he could take his place as the lifeguard at LCC's pool,
if he would just write a kite to the rec specialist. Dubry was
not the lifeguard at LCC's pool. The rec specialist was not
looking to replace a lifeguard at the pool. LCC had no pool.
Dubry would help him with the words. He had to write that
he could hold his breath for two minutes, would willingly
wear the Speedos, and was CPR qualifi ed.
Dubry hooked up a guy with an imaginary girl. Carlton
Honeycutt asked Dubry to hook him up when he noticed the
amount of attention Dubry receive via mail. The "Girl" Dubry
invented did not want to give up an address immediately, so
he had to give the letters to Dubry and receive from Dubry.
Dubry wrote some crazy shit pretending to be this imaginary
girl. Reading Carlton's return letters at night to his celly was
his evening's entertainment. He had Carlton saying that he
was willing to take big black dildos in his ass while getting
a Boston Steamer. Carlton asked her to be gentle, as he had
never done anything like it before.
"Anybody who gets between them is just gonna wind up
with a hose full of piss running down their leg."
Good Lookin' Out
"What's up Count?"
"Hard dicks, helicopters, a cat's butt when you scratch
it, a chicken's butt when it eats, the price of a blow-job on
the yard, so I'm told."
"When I was a child."
"Oh God."
".and I told my father that I was bored, he would say,
"Only boring people get bored." His statements had the
desired effect. I would go and fi nd something to do. Now,
in my early 50s, I must be one boring motherfucker."
"Come on man, you ain't that bad."
"Remember a month or two ago at guard mount, we
started talking about when your wife hired me to investigate
you?"
"Vaguely," visibly getting pissed at the memory.
"I've got to breeze a concept past you. Your wife has
fi nancially secured my investigative services. She thinks
you're cheating on her, and she wants video-graphic evidence
if her suspicions are correct."
"Dude, thanks for the heads-up, good lookin' out
Heck."
"Count, wrap your head around this; she hired me
months ago. We talked about this! I gave you the heads-up
because you are my brother-Marine, but I still think you're
a dirt bag."
"Take it back, Heck."
"You see Count, I have made two tapes and a PowerPoint
presentation over the course of the last several months. One
of the tapes supports your bullshit lies and clears you. She
would see you changing fl at tires, grocery shopping, and
visiting friends in the hospital. The other tape, and the
PowerPoint is what she is dreading to see. I have caught you
red-handed in the cookie jar, multiple times, with more than
just one piece of strange. What I am prepared to do is give
you a choice from two options. You can either purchase the
stuff that damns you, leaving me with only the lily-white
version, or you can do nothing, and try to make it work your
way. You can deny it, but your wife is not stupid. When
she sees the evidence, there will be nothing you can do but
pack. It makes no difference to me. Your wife wants to get
the goods on you bad enough; there is a bonus in it for me if
I prove her right. If you want my advice, for what it's worth,
I would call my bluff. Because even if you paid me and you
were cleared, she would just hire somebody else to tail you,
and you would eventually get caught. You just can't keep
your pecker out of the strange cooze."
"Heck, you know I am a Marine, why are you holding
me accountable for better behavior?"