Multnomah County Corrections
September 27th, 2021
Sunday passed without any issues except one, a little punk that had thought he was big and tough had nearly gotten knocked over the railing that ran across the walkway that jutted out from the top bank of cells. The whole incident had gone down much as he’d seen it happen in the past. Some little guy had come in with an attitude, thinking he was tougher than anyone else, and he’d nearly paid for it with his life. As it was he was now the most reviled guy on the block.
Like most little guys this particular inmate had a serious problem with his lack of stature and wanted to make everyone aware that he was a lot tougher than he looked. The unfortunate part was that he was short and skinny, in fact he might have gone a buck ten had he been soaking wet, but on a dry day he’d be lucky to break the one hundred mark. Yet he acted like he was biggest dog in the yard and the moment that someone had stood in his way, unknowingly, he’d decided to bark.
Sadly for him the guy he’d decided to pop off to hadn’t been in the mood to entertain the smaller man’s temper or his need to impose his will. Instead what everyone had thought was going to happen had proceeded in a very typical fashion. The bigger man had asked the little guy if he wanted to fight, to which the little guy had replied that he would kick the big man’s monkey ass all over the place. That had been amusing enough, but the bigger man had invited the smaller guy up to his cell, where they wouldn’t be seen.
So they’d gone to the upper tier, and like a bunch of schoolyard kids most of the other guys in the cell block had gone running after them to see a fight. It was amazing just how foolish people could be when there was a spectacle to be seen. Of course someone had called out that the guards were no doubt watching and they’d all get in trouble if they went rushing up like something was happening. He knew better, the guards didn’t care one way or another. They had to stop the fight of course but they wouldn’t go rushing in. It didn’t matter much anyway.
The next sound had been the flat smack of bone on flesh as the little guy had been sent backpedaling out of the cell. His back had hit the railing so hard that he’d almost done a backflip to his death, but he’d caught himself just in time. After that he’d just walked away, but that hadn’t been the end of it. The little prick had started trying to find allies after that, talking to whomever would listen to him in order to gain allies. It wasn’t a smart move no matter how it might have been shown on TV or in movies. Most guys in county just wanted to do their time and get out.
When the little punk had finally come to talk to him he’d had one word in mind and had used it before the little guy had a chance to speak.
“No,” he’d said, holding up a hand as the younger man had opened his mouth.
“You haven’t heard what I have to say,” he’d replied in protest, already looking perturbed. The red mark around his mouth where he’d been hit had already been starting to bruise, making it look like he’d tried sucking face with a vacuum cleaner and forgotten where his own lips were.
“I don’t care,” he’d said in reply, “I’m doing my time and getting out. I don’t want anything to do with your plans.”
Saying this kind of thing to someone wasn’t a good way to make friends, but he didn’t care. This punk hadn’t been his cell mate so outside of the common area he didn’t have to deal with him. The rest of the day had gone pretty smoothly, but the little punk had failed to get even one person on his side, and it had made him smile inside.
(to be continued)