65) From The Frying Pan To The Fire

Something serious must have happened on the yard today...

The guards are releasing a bunch of us from the hole early to make room for the, "newly in trouble inmates." A guard came by my cell right after they served breakfast and told me to, "pack it up!" At first I thought the nigga was fucking with me, but as I listened more closely I could here niggas on my tier talking. The problem with the niggas on my tier is the fact that they are all mostly Mexican. On each side of my cell the occupants are Mexican, and I've never heard any of them speak English. Out of all the excited chatter going on I could only pick out two Spanish words, "negro, and punalada... Whatever happen is definitely bad.



Okay, it's official... I've been ready to leave since breakfast, but my black ass is still here and the guards just served us our lunch... In paper bags! Lunch in paper bags means that the units are already locked down. I really don't give a fuck what happened in the units, right now I just want out of the hole.


I've made it back to Killer K and It's worse than I expected. The Blacks and Mexicans banged it out in the yard earlier. One white boy was injured badly. I heard this from my new cellie, Yohan. Yohan is a Crip and he rocks this long, funny ass fu manchu that somehow, he actually pulls off. He seems to be a little slow to me, but as soon as this lock down is over I'm getting my old cell with Fraction back.

There is a lot of back and forth talk coming from the cells occupied by the whites. Anytime a racial fight cracks off, both sides immediately go to high alert. I'm almost positive shit is gonna hit the fan as soon as the cell doors open. The AB's have to prove a point and they're gonna take it out on the first nigga caught slipping. It won't be me.


No comments:

Post a Comment