Revenge is a Dish Best Served With a Tootsie Roll...

Revenge is a Dish Best Served

With a Tootsie Roll

     Life behind bars isn't always filled with misery. Trust me, give us enough time and we'll find something to laugh about. Tonight's entry is one of those moments which make me laugh everytime I think about it...

     So, by now you understand that we have very little control over our lives. Every aspect is rigidly controlled by the guards who watch over us, and "with absolute power comes absolute corruption." We had a female guard working our unit who took this to the extreme. It was bad enough that she'd tear our cells up, even reading our personal letters and legal work before coming out to question us in depth in front of everyone, but she had to step it up a notch. She'd see us in a card game or talking, and she'd come right up to us and just stand there, listening. She'd never actually contribute to the conversation, just stand or sit with us glaring away until.soneone said something she objected to, at which point she'd make a federal case out of it. We'd usually walk away, but it never really seemed to bother her. She'd just tag along or screw with someone else.

     One day, I had an epiphany, a way to get her to stop screwing with us. I chopped up some jalapeno peppers and boiled them in some water, damn near choking myself to death in the process. When I finished, I poured it all over the metal bench. Then we sat down around that spot and waited...

     It didn't take long. As soon as she seen us laughing and joking, she came running over to disrupt our fun. When she sat down, she immediately knew she'd been had. The look on her face said it all. Her eyes got wide with surprise, and for just a moment, she looked as she was about to bolt, but at the last possible second, she regained some semblance of her composure and remained seated. At that point, it became a waiting game. We all sat there, in perfect silence. It took a monstrous effort on our parts to keep a straight face, but with the exveption of a few muffled snickers, we managed to do so, but she wasn't as fortunate.

     It took some time for the watery mixtute to work its way up, but eventually capillary action had her panties drenched, and once it reached her more sensitive areas, she began to feel the burn, literally.

     Suddenly, she jumped up screaming. "You stupid motherfuckers," she yelled. "Youte going to pay for this, every last one of you!" She was hysterical, and we were all laughing so hard we were literally on the ground, in tears. She ran into the office, desperately trying not to scratch herself, but it was no use. A moment later the guards were all running in, trying to figure out why she'd pressed her panic button. By that time, she was in the bathroom, door shut, cursing like a sailors on shore leave. Nobody was fighting, we were all laughing our asses off, so they just stood there yelling and screaming "get the fuck down, on your stomach, motherfucker!" Yeah, sure asshole, we're already on the ground doubled over in laughter, but whatever.

     The sergeant came in and turned the alarm off before demanding to know what happened. I explained that if spilled my extra spicy soup onto the bench and she'd sat in it. He didn't get the confusion, until she started screaming about her pussy burning. At that point, I completely lost it. I shouted out "ghonnerea," and started laughing so hard I actually started to piss myself. Tears were rolling down my eyes, a piss spot was on my crotch, and I'd laughed so hard I thought I'd given myself a hernia, but I wasn't alone. As I wiped the tears from my eyes and looked up in expectation for my beating, I realized they were laughing to. They were trying to hide it, she was, after all, their colleague, but they were laughing nonetheless.

     With the confusion finally sorted put, she left to take a shower and change her clothes, and as you might imagine, when she returned, she did so with revenge on her mind, and having made a couple of horse trades to work a double, so we were in for a rough night.

     Originally, she'd planned on hitting everyone's cell who'd been sitting there, but the sergeant explained that I'd quickly admitted to "spilling" something on the bench, so instead of searching everyone's cells, she spent almost 3 hours in my cell. To say it was a disaster would have been an understatement. The bitch had ripped up all of my letters, all of my pictures and dumped them into a pile in the middle of the floor. Then she'd proceeded to open every canteen item I had and dumped it on top of that before stomping all over it and dumping water all over everything. There were cookie crumbs and crushed chips everywhere. Oatmeal was on the floor, the walks, even the ceiling, but this bitch had picked the wrong one. I knew how to get even, as she was about to find out.

     I grabbed some Prell from someone and carefully laud a fine layer on the linoleum tiles in front of the office door. Then I soaked a couple of wads of toilet paper with water and threw it on the ceiling, where it would gradually let drops of water fall to the ground, mixing with the Prell. Once that was done, I asked some of the guys for the extra large Tootsie Rolls and chewed them until they were moist and pliable. When they were, I added some corn to the mixture and kept chewing until it was thoroughly mixed. Finally, after cleaning the floor, I put it in the corner, found a seat and sat down to wait for the fireworks.

     It didn't take long. As expected, she went straight to the hot room to dispose of the items she'd deemed to be contraband, and as soon as she got to the door, she seen what I can only describe as a huge turd. Oh my God! That woman screamed my name so loud that heard her 2 counties over! "Get the fuck over here, you suck fuck! I know it was you!" She was yelling and screaming, and everyone was posted at their door trying to see or hear. L

     I calmly walked over, as innocent as could be. "Yes ma'am? What seems to be the problem?"

     "You know EXACTLY what the problem is, you sick fuck! You SHIT IN THE FUCKING CORNER!"

     "You mean that?" I asked, innocently pointing at the pile of dung in the corner.

     "Yes, that! Clean it up, and you can bet you've got a write-up coming, too!"

     I leaned over, picked up the handmade turd and curiously sniffed it. I hadn't planned it, but her look of disgust pushed me over the edge and I popped into my mouth and started chewing with a huge, satisfied smile on my face. She promptly puked on the floor, all over the place, before running back to the office, dropping my "contraband" all over the place. I calmly picked up my belongings and returned to my cell to begin the process of repairing the damage.

     As you might imagine, the guards all came rushing back in, demanding to know what was going on. Naturally, I denied everything. "Me? Eating shit? I can honestly say I did no such thing." The guards all knew me, and they knew I was no liar, and technically, I hadn't lied. I hadn't eaten any shit. I'd taken a lot of shit from her over that past year, but I hadn't eaten any.

     I was locked in my cell while they tried to figure out what to do. After a few minutes, they left, the entire time, the soaking wet wads of toilet paper slowly dripping onto the floor. Half an hour later, she comes out for count and walked right into a puddle of water that had now mixed with shampoo. When she did, she went down, hard. Her radio went flying one way and her keys the other. You could literally hear the air leaving her lungs as she bounced, but she wasn't hurt, just pissed. She hit the button, and for the 3rd time thst day, the officers were running to her rescue, but when they got there, she was all alone. Everybody else was locked up.

     She began to rant and rave, like she'd lost her mind. Naturally, she blamed me, and naturally, she was right, but I was in my cell, where I'd been since they left, and water hadn't been there when thet'd left. They didn't even bother coming to talk to me, which infuriated her even further. They actually argued right there at the office door before she finally burst into tears and ran out of the building. Her shift was pretty much over anyway. All she needed to do was her count, so one of the nicer officers offered to complete her count for her. When he got to my cell, he stopped and asked me if I had anything to say for myself. I simply moved away from the window and pointed to my letters and pictures buried under several hundred dollars of ruined canteen, momentos I'd never be able to replace. "Do I really need to say anything," I ssked. The look on his face said it all. He turned around and walked away without another word.

     If I haven't been clear enough, the woman involved was pure evil. Her behavior in my cell wasn't anything new. If you did anything to piss her off, if she even thought you'd done something, this is how she responded. She just happened to push one time to many, and I don't believe in hitting women, even if they do deserve it.