There's a cricket in my cell... Maybe it's in the wall. It won't stop chirping and the mother fucker is driving me crazy. I can't even pinpoint where exactly the mother fucker is at. When the shift changes I'm gonna flood my cell with the water from the toilet. That should flush it out... Get it?... Flush it out. I'm tripping... I mean I'm really tripping!
A couple of hours ago I could have sworn I saw my dead grandmother. I'm not talking like "saw her in a dream" type shit. I mean I saw her while I was fully awake. She was standing inside my cell, directly in front of the cell door. She had on grey slacks, those black nurse shoes with the thick rubber soles and a black blouse with a flower pattern on it. She was looking at me with that, "Baby, what have you gotten yourself into look."
Logically I tried to explain what I was seeing, based on on my physical state. Lack of sleep ( due to the fucking cricket chirping all the time), lack of food (due to the fact that I can barely open my mouth), and lack of light (I remember reading somewhere that light deprivation causes depression). I know my grandmother is dead and what I was seeing was not real, but I could not take my eyes off of what I was seeing. I even muttered under my breath, "Your not real."
She just stood there not saying a word and suddenly I became ashamed. This was a shame of Biblical proportion. I could feel my eyes watering up, but I refused to let the tears fall... It was as if I had let her down somehow. I whispered between my teeth that I was sorry and she answered me back... Her words?...
"Hold your head high, child. A wonderful life awaits you."
Instantly I felt this calm come upon me. And then she was gone. As I write this, goose bumps engulf my entire body. Someone, or something... pure and beautiful, outside of this realm of existence is watching over me. I feel it and believe with my entire being!
I've decided to leave the cricket alone. Suddenly the sound has become soothing to me.
I hope someday someone gets to read this...
Especially my son, nieces and nephews. I don't want anyone telling them who, or what I was. This will be my testament.
This is my sixth day in the hole and I still haven't seen a doctor. I can barely open my mouth and my jaw hurts like a mother fucker. Two days ago I ripped my bed sheet and made this... "thing" to hold my jaw in place.
Basically the torn sheet runs from under my jaw, up the sides of my face and tied to the top of my head with a knot. I know I look crazy, but what the fuck am I suppose to do? I can't chew solid food so my diet consists mostly of milk. Most days I don't even eat. I did 500 sit ups and 500 push ups today. Go Mike!
I started writing a pilot for a TV show today. It's a twist on Gilligan's Island. I've always loved that show, but there was always shit that baffled me.
- Why did Mr. and Mrs. Howell have so much cash on them? It was only a three hour tour.
- If the Howell's were so rich why didn't they have their own yacht?
- I know Ginger was a movie star, but why in the fuck was she wearing an evening dress and high heels on a three hour cruise?
- What movie star travels without an entourage?
- All that time together and nobody knows the Skipper, the Professor or the Howell's first name?
- Are you telling me that there was no fucking going on? Mary Ann, with that plump lil butt was not getting dicked down?
- Who in their right mind would pick Gilligan as a first mate?
I could go on, but you get the picture. Instead of a boat I've decided to fill the island with plane crash survivors. And yes, there are black people on the plane. My twist is that there are already people living on the island, but they do not want to be found out. I call these people, "The Islanders." The Islanders consist of men and women (mostly scientist) who have been on this island for more than 30 years. The islanders are guarding and experimenting on a UFO that crashed landed on the island. Each week I'll give out more clues that will eventually bring the two groups together.
(SPOILER ALERT) The Islanders have been on the Island since the mid 1930's and have not aged since. To them, the current year is late 1960's. The plane crash survivors took off from LAX on June 7, 1996. And to really throw a double twist in the game, two of the four UFO crew survived the crash and haven't been seen from since.
My cell lights haven't come on at all today. I know the C.O. is trying to fuck with me. I did 500 sit ups and 500 push ups today.
No lights again today. When I looked at my lunch tray today I noticed that there was spit on my cake. I guess the C.O. didn't get the memo on my "caveman" diet.
500 sit ups and 500 push ups.
I had the nightmare about the murdered guard again. Still no lights. The C.O. keeps banging on my cell every time he finds me sleeping. I now know what it feels like to genuinely hate a person.
500 sit ups and 500 push ups.
I think I'm seeing shit. From the corners of my eyes I keep glimpsing the image of a person. No lights again today. Found spit on my cake again.
500 sit ups and 650 push ups.
Something is really wrong with my jaw. I took the "thing" off today and I couldn't open my mouth at all. Is this what Lockjaw feels like? Still no lights for me. Ashes on my mashed potatoes
600 push ups. My stomach muscles hurt bad!
They gave us showers today. I tried to tell the guard that he needed to send a medic down to my cell and have a look at my jaw. He laughed at the way I was talking through my teeth. I hate this mother fucker! No lights for me again today...600 push ups 500 sit ups.