|The Joke's On Me|
|Written by Katfish|
|Monday, 11 January 2010 02:57|
My first week in the Low Security Prison at Yazoo City, Mississippi was an enlightening experience. Keep in mind where I'm at and where I'm from.
By myself, walking the track. It's about 10 feet wide. Asphalt. It goes all the way around the yard. I'm being careful to stay on the track because even tho' the yard is grass, it's mud underneath. There's standing water everywhere. Don't want to fuck up my brand new crisp white Reebok Classics, you see. Anyway, as I'm walking I suddenly spot one of those “skeeters.” It is. It is big. Way fucking big. Hell yeah it's 3 inches long. And I'm like, “Oh fuck. There he is. Here he comes too.” So I begin my world renown evasive maneuvers. These basically consist of bobbing and weaving, ducking and juking, zigging and zagging, tripping over my own feet, going down on my hands and knees in the muck. Up again and running while I wave my t-shirt over my head to get Skeeterzilla to let me be. I look behind me, almost go down again but keep my balance. Barely. But I saw it up close. Weren't a skeeter. Was a dragonfly.
I quit running, shoo the fucker away, then look around to see if anybody had seen my ridiculous antics. Apparently no one had. I was glad for that. I also mentally marked the occasion because I would most certainly get my evens with them guys.
By the way: There are skeeters here. Fuck yeah. But they're no bigger than the ones back home in Denver. Only difference is here they number in the trillions.
|Last Updated on Sunday, 17 January 2010 02:39|