The guards took Budd to the hole last night after lockdown. It had to be late because I was up until almost 2:am reading Toni Morrison's "BELOVED." (This book was so scary to me it ain't funny! I kept hearing shit all night long.) His cellie told me Budd just started trippin out in the middle of the night. Grabbing at shit that wasn't there, making bird noises and pulling his hair out. I knew my boy was a lil stressed out, but this shit threw a nigga for real! I have the combination to Budds locker, because I keep all my extra cartons of smokes, chips, coffee and sodas in there that don't fit in mine. I wanted to get my shit out of his locker before the guards packed it all up and shipped it to the hole with Budd. Everything inside of Budd's locker belonged to me with the exception of his clothes, a can of Bugler, his hygiene shit and a book. I left everything Budd would need to survive in the hole inside of his locker... smokes, coffee, stamps and plenty of junk food. (Only idiots eat for taste.) I grabbed my shit and went back to my cell and that's when it hit me... The title of the book I found in Budds locker. I looked at it again to make sure and sure enough...
Either this nigga Budd is a fucking genius or he's getting himself into some seriously deep shit!
----------------------------------------------------------
Delaware, tried to test your boy today. Now the nigga, Delaware got two packs of smokes and four sodas from me last week. This week when commissary came around I expected three packs of smokes and six sodas. That's the vig... I watched the nigga go to commissary and I watched the nigga come back with a pillowcase full of shit. When I stepped to him at his cell about my shit he told me he forgot all about it. I ain't really trippin, so I told the nigga, "just give me 12 dollars worth of shit from what you got tonight and we Even Steven." That nigga Delaware told me he wasn't given up nothing! He said I needed to "chalk that up as a loss." As soon as he said it his cellie fell out laughing... FYI... My grandmother raised me right as rain! Ain't nothing coochie about me! I walked away from Delaware's cell without saying a word to him. I was never one to do much talking when it's time to repp. I should have walked a little faster to my cell, because the bitch ass nigga tried to rush me while my back was turned. If it wasn't for the Dread, Parsha calling out to me "Hype-Hype-Hype!" the nigga Delaware would have mapped me with a least a buck 50. When I turned around I saw the bitch ass nigga with the ox in his hand, but it was too late. He was already coming down with it in full swing. The only thing I could do was protect my face. (A cut to the face in prison is like a scarlet letter) I barely felt the razor cut through my flesh... 5 inches above the wrist of my left arm... And then it slipped out of Delawares hand. I immediately countered with what I thought was a Mike Tyson, overhand right. It missed it's marked and grazed off the side of Delaware's head. The nigga charged me with his head down and I'm almost certain the mother fucker had his eyes closed. I grabbed the back of his neck as he came in and kneed him in the stomach with everything I had. I could literally hear all the air come out of him. We both fell to the ground, but I was in the better position (No homo.) Delaware tried to crawl on all fours to retrieve the ox, but I dived right onto his back and threw him in the choke hold from hell. Jesus couldn't pull me off this nigga. I was even humming "Rock a Bye Baby" to myself. Truth be told the more Delaware struggled the more tired I became. (Where the fuck is a guard when you really need one?) As I felt Delaware slip off to Dreamland I could see the guard. Well actually, all I could see was her back. The bitch was standing inside of C-Rat's cell. I left Delaware right there on the ground and walked my exhausted ass back into his cell. I took his whole pillowcase of commissary and his cellie ain't do shit! I was already in my cell when I heard the guard yelling for everyone to lock down. 15 seconds later every available guard in Lompoc was running into Killer-K yelling, "Lock it down... Everybody to their cell!" While I was in my cell I tended to my wound. I needed stitches. The cut was clean and not too deep, but I was having trouble stopping the bleeding. This nigga Delaware scarred me for life. The cut is no longer than 7 inches, but I know damn well it's gonna keloid. They walked Delaware out of the unit and began the cell by cell strip search. The first thing the guards tell you during a strip search is to "remove your shirt and stick your arms out." As soon as I stuck my arms out the guard saw the cut. They cuffed me up and took me to the hole. And here I sit... again. I don't know what they are going to charge me with, but I do know either Delaware or I will have to leave Lompoc. I refused to see medical for stitches. The reason... I'm tired as fuck! I realize now that I might be losing weight but your boy is still outta shape. The hole ain't that bad. I'm in a cell by myself and there were several books left behind by the previous occupant. I'm gonna make the best of this isolation and get my mind right. The first thing I'm gonna do is put a strategy together to get Delaware the fuck outta here. If they keep us both here somebody is going to die. (YWHW, please don't let it be me.) I've called out to Budd several times, but another nigga from Killer-K yelled out that Budd never made it to the hole.
I've got a funny feeling (No homo.) that Budd may be in it a whole lot deeper than me. I have an idea of what Budd has planned and I hope the book I found in his locker (Working With Schizophrenia: A Needs Based Approach) helps.
Either this nigga Budd is a fucking genius or he's getting himself into some seriously deep shit!
----------------------------------------------------------
Delaware, tried to test your boy today. Now the nigga, Delaware got two packs of smokes and four sodas from me last week. This week when commissary came around I expected three packs of smokes and six sodas. That's the vig... I watched the nigga go to commissary and I watched the nigga come back with a pillowcase full of shit. When I stepped to him at his cell about my shit he told me he forgot all about it. I ain't really trippin, so I told the nigga, "just give me 12 dollars worth of shit from what you got tonight and we Even Steven." That nigga Delaware told me he wasn't given up nothing! He said I needed to "chalk that up as a loss." As soon as he said it his cellie fell out laughing... FYI... My grandmother raised me right as rain! Ain't nothing coochie about me! I walked away from Delaware's cell without saying a word to him. I was never one to do much talking when it's time to repp. I should have walked a little faster to my cell, because the bitch ass nigga tried to rush me while my back was turned. If it wasn't for the Dread, Parsha calling out to me "Hype-Hype-Hype!" the nigga Delaware would have mapped me with a least a buck 50. When I turned around I saw the bitch ass nigga with the ox in his hand, but it was too late. He was already coming down with it in full swing. The only thing I could do was protect my face. (A cut to the face in prison is like a scarlet letter) I barely felt the razor cut through my flesh... 5 inches above the wrist of my left arm... And then it slipped out of Delawares hand. I immediately countered with what I thought was a Mike Tyson, overhand right. It missed it's marked and grazed off the side of Delaware's head. The nigga charged me with his head down and I'm almost certain the mother fucker had his eyes closed. I grabbed the back of his neck as he came in and kneed him in the stomach with everything I had. I could literally hear all the air come out of him. We both fell to the ground, but I was in the better position (No homo.) Delaware tried to crawl on all fours to retrieve the ox, but I dived right onto his back and threw him in the choke hold from hell. Jesus couldn't pull me off this nigga. I was even humming "Rock a Bye Baby" to myself. Truth be told the more Delaware struggled the more tired I became. (Where the fuck is a guard when you really need one?) As I felt Delaware slip off to Dreamland I could see the guard. Well actually, all I could see was her back. The bitch was standing inside of C-Rat's cell. I left Delaware right there on the ground and walked my exhausted ass back into his cell. I took his whole pillowcase of commissary and his cellie ain't do shit! I was already in my cell when I heard the guard yelling for everyone to lock down. 15 seconds later every available guard in Lompoc was running into Killer-K yelling, "Lock it down... Everybody to their cell!" While I was in my cell I tended to my wound. I needed stitches. The cut was clean and not too deep, but I was having trouble stopping the bleeding. This nigga Delaware scarred me for life. The cut is no longer than 7 inches, but I know damn well it's gonna keloid. They walked Delaware out of the unit and began the cell by cell strip search. The first thing the guards tell you during a strip search is to "remove your shirt and stick your arms out." As soon as I stuck my arms out the guard saw the cut. They cuffed me up and took me to the hole. And here I sit... again. I don't know what they are going to charge me with, but I do know either Delaware or I will have to leave Lompoc. I refused to see medical for stitches. The reason... I'm tired as fuck! I realize now that I might be losing weight but your boy is still outta shape. The hole ain't that bad. I'm in a cell by myself and there were several books left behind by the previous occupant. I'm gonna make the best of this isolation and get my mind right. The first thing I'm gonna do is put a strategy together to get Delaware the fuck outta here. If they keep us both here somebody is going to die. (YWHW, please don't let it be me.) I've called out to Budd several times, but another nigga from Killer-K yelled out that Budd never made it to the hole.
I've got a funny feeling (No homo.) that Budd may be in it a whole lot deeper than me. I have an idea of what Budd has planned and I hope the book I found in his locker (Working With Schizophrenia: A Needs Based Approach) helps.
