81. Testicles at Half-Mast

"Strip and raise your testicles, inmate!"

Stupid, uneducated. Angry-at-their-own-lives "correction" officers were either bullied as children or were the bullies. These Plan B humans are in charge of me now. They are angrier and more incorrect than the angry people they're correcting.

Reality: incarceration isn't for rehabilitation or even restitution. It's for revenge--nothing else. The right people are hired--fucktards--my new bosses.

"You're nothing here!" says the mouth-breathing, knuckle-dragging oaf, and he's right. This is a place where the brakes of justice skidded me from life-to-zero in record time.

Can I complain? To the head oaf? My senator? Senator:

"You should've thought about this when you were being a bad man."

Hard to argue.

Should I keep a calendar? No. Too painful checking off days one-by-one. How many wake-ups till I'm out?

"You with the tray, keep moving." "I can't eat this shit." "What'd you say?" "Nothing, sir."

Sir? The irony.

It's bad enough being sequestered from society, but to be ruled by troglodytes? The TV isn't mine--it belongs to the shot-caller. The seat at the movie isn't mine--it belongs to the OG. The weights are off-limits except for the muscleheaded mesomorphic Ignorati.

The mail room won't give me my magazine: it showed a nipple. Can't even see a movie that shows one. But murder's OK entertainment for the likes of bad men like me--action movies and shoot'em-ups.

Dental floss? No, you might hang yourself. Ketchup? No, you might try to fake ketchup blood on you for some nefarious purpose. Think you can keep your own headphones? How's the Bush family gonna make money selling their crappy stock ones in the commissary? They've got the contract.

Computer? Are you out of your fucking mind? Who knows what you'll do? Use the '73 encyclopedia in that library.

"See the doctor. Now. ASAP-ly!" Doctor? Really?

Will I still be nothing when I'm out? Will my debt to society be paid?

Reality: it'll never be paid. Banks will refuse you an account; background checks will forbid you any job that'll keep you from re-offending. Penal debt is like student debt--designed on the front end for recidivism.

I wonder: will I finally be able to let my testicles down?

________________

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Word count (excluding notes): 364

Submitted for Thursday, March 21, 2024

2024: A Story-a-Day for the whole year. This one is #81.

Title picture is AI-generated, which isn't illegal, yet.

Story background: Someone I know has been-there-done-that. To be a correction officer (CO) at a federal prison, you only have to be pursuing a GED (not have one). While some are honorable men, many have found a place to reign over those who can't talk back, much less fight back. Worse, under them are the OG (ol' gangsta) favorites, who call the shots, from which channel the TV's set on to "reserved" seats in the occasional movie. The Penal Code has a no-nipple policy, so any magazines or even reading material has sexual references is contraband and seized by the CO in the mail room. Every phone call is monitored, including by the prison chaplain. People who disrupt "disappear," getting shipped to somewhere less pleasant. The entire operation is just mean-spirited to dehumanize a person, in a Shawshankian way, into thinking they're nothing. When a felon gets out, banks won't let them have accounts, and no one will hire them after a background check. While that may have value with sex, violent, and repeat offenders, the many who've been locked up for pot or medical addictions will never pay back "their debt" to society. They are set up to money launder and to do things that don't need a background check, like the thing that got them locked up in the first place. The Bureau of Prisons is, essentially, the Bureau of Revenge. "Bad" people must pay. And getting "out" is not starting over, but being kept as the "nothings" of society.