"Bare minimum you gotta hit that n****r with the Dr Spark joint"
It's a weekday. Same as any other day in here...well, almost
I wake to a completely fonged out room. It's like there's a smoke machine that's been turned on, but the smoke smells strangely chemically and unlike anything i've ever smelt before..
I notice that i am not alone in the room. Far from it. We're talking about 8 deep. In a two men cell.
"Yo Timdog, go back to sleep n****r."
About an hour of pretending to be asleep while the majority of the Big time gangsters bun down my cell,
it's time to get up. The smoke has cleared (mostly) and the weird chemical smell is almost gone = talcom powder hides most odours, even farts, it's a must..especially after your 260 pound cellie has taken a 'New York Shit'. Rise and Shine.
It seems we had a visiter in the night...santa claus! We find two sacks outside the door (i'm not bullshit) filled with sweets and crisps an shit..nothing amazing, but still, raggo! Sha informs me that i can sell it for 15 dollars if i don't want it, as
"N*****s be fiending for this shit, kid" i opt to hold on to it for now...
Sha get's up, i make myself some coffee, an go back to my cell. It's fucking hot in the jail still, so i'm jamming on my bed wearing my XXXL shorts, an admiring the progress working out has done to my stomach...Sha comes in the room
"Where the fuck you think you at n*****? St Tropez?"
"You won't be laughin when one of them freak n*****s come in here an try suck your toes, kid"
i laugh again...but look for my socks..
I hear Sha repeat when he just said to the gang of mobsters/bloods outside the cell, which is met with ruptuous laughter and i can hear people coming to the cell..
"Yo, this funny n***** is pulling his socks up to his knees yo!"
Everyone laughs. Pricks.