Love Is

This week in music class I listened to a group of guys sing "Love Is What I Got" by Sublime.  At first I smiled.  Then I nearly spilled a tear.  Sitting across from me is my partner.  We left Wakulla C.I. on the same bus.  I've been doing time with this guy for over two years now.  He greets me with a smile.  We work out each morning.

These assholes stole his new shoes the other day.  He's done nearly five years and still has over 10 left to do.  He's only 24 years old.  He is his mothers only son.  Yet tomorrow when I see him?  He's gonna have a smile on his face.  Never fails.

We planned to start a little band and jam out once a week.  Just to free our minds.  The village bullies put down on our little 130 pound drummer and he checked in.  (Side note from Brooke: for those that may not know what that means.  The drummer boy went to the cops and asked to have his things locked up and asked to be put in confinement under protective security due to the incident with the village bullies.)  This was the only way he could avoid getting his ass beat and his lunch money taken.  Fuckin' pricks.  Reminds me of that old country song "I'd love to spit some beechnut in that dude's eye, then shoot him with my old .45."  And where did the good ole' boys go?

Everyone's response to someone stealing your shit is to go beat their ass!  But what if you kill the guy on accident?  What if he falls and hits his head and it's over?  Last time my buddy killed a guy, the judge gave him 20 years.  Perhaps it's logical thinking to just say "take the damn shoes!"  If you go to rehab to rehabilitate yourself, and church to save yourself....what do you come to prison for?  For some, it seems that they come to steal another man's tennis shoes.  Then they walk around thinking they are gangster and stuff.  Like they really did something.  Punk-ass-bitch!

So, I'm here listening to these guys sing "Love is What I Got".  I'm missing a drummer, and my partner is missing his new shoes.  I'm not feeling much love in the room.  The laugh that escaped my mouth was similar to a psyche patient three days behind on pill call.  Then the tear that nearly slid down my cheek.  It' wasn't a salty bead of sadness marking a broken heart.  It was beechnut and .45 rolled into one.  It was "don't tread on me, the ice is thin over here."  It was two fries short of a happy meal.  Prison is not cool.  Some people fit right into this life.  There are others who will go home from  here and never come back.

I'm gonna keep going to my music class.  I need to run a new ad for another drummer.  If you hear of one, please have him contact me.  There's a few good men back here who want to come home to their family.  There's a few families out there who are mighty happy to know their problem child is back here safe and sound.  Let's all pray they don't slip on a broom handle and never get up.  That would be a shame.

I need to run along now....see if I can't find the pill line and take my meds.  Peace and love.  Keep your shoes on your feet people.

The Hooligan