Photos by Janicza Bravo
I’m done. I’m done with here. I’m done with this. Others pray. I am done.
“Did I ever tell you my dream of all dreams, Toupee?”
“No, Grunt. You didn’t.”
“My dream is… to one day… RAPE THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND!”
“The Queen of England, huh?”
“That’s right. The Queen of England. I know just how I’d do it too. First thing I’d do is learn to talk in an England voice. Then I’d get a job as one of those guards with the big furry hats, who stand there all day.”
“They’re called bobbies.”
“Yeah. I’d be a bobby, and I’d guard her. But then at night, when no one was looking, I’d sneak into her castle and get it done. Nobody would stop me either, because they’re used to seeing bobbies walking around the castle. I’d find my spot. I’d do it, and I’d do it real royal.”
I AM DONE!
One of the neo-Nazis I was letting hammer me gave me a knife as a present. I keep it in my ass. In prison your ass is your wallet. Luckily, I’ve got a big wallet. And my cellmate’s got a big fucking mouth.
I stab Grunt all up and down his flabby tits. I clench my lips to make sure blood doesn’t get in my mouth. I know the blade isn’t long enough to hit anything vital, and that’s fine. I’m not necessarily a murderer. I just need to hear this fucking rapist squeal. I’d like to think this is all in the name of some kind of justice, but really it’s that I’m at the point where I need to hear screams.
Grunt’s taken to the hospital. I’m sent to the hole. The pigs actually don’t beat the shit out of me. Not only that, before they slam the door one of them shakes my hand. I guess that’s a thank-you. Everybody hates rapists. Especially pigs. So I guess I’m kind of a hero to these guys. A hero made out of shit.
Two weeks later I’m out of the hole and cash-milkin’ my Nazi john like I never left. Turns out he’s pretty proud of my little stabbing too. Doesn’t attempt to hide his enthusiasm while he’s fucking me.
“Yeah, man. All of us at the Brotherhood are real impressed with what you did to that Grunt. Real proud of you. And you know who else would have been really proud of you? Extra-special proud of you? Hitler. If Hitler were here, he’d give you a high five.”
After he busts his nut, we lie there. I get extra cigarettes if I hang around and snuggle afterward. Some sick maniacs are weird like that. They’d chuck a baby out of a moving car, but in the end they want to be the baby. They want a fucking mommy. Sure, I’ll be a mommy. I’ll be a daddy. I’ll be a fucking step-granddaddy if it means me getting a little extra.
Didn’t know it would be a lot extra—a whole lot extra.
Next day I’m in the yard. Lifting weights. By myself. No one around. No one’s ever lifting weights here. This has got to be the laziest prison in the whole fucking world. All these scum are just letting themselves get fat as houses. Don’t know why. Wish I could get fat as all shit, but there’s no fucking way. My body is my cash. Gotta keep that ass lookin’ like a little boy’s.
I’m just now getting a good taste of my time alone. Really starting to feel jacked on these weights. I feel like my glistening muscles are about to bust out of my fucking skin, when up walks my Aryan john and the rest of the Brotherhood. They look serious. Maybe they’re going to kill me. Don’t know what I said. Maybe it’s what I didn’t say. Maybe it’ll be just to see my breath float away. We’re all fucking insects.
The leader, Klaus (his real name’s George), steps forward and looks at me a long time. A real long time. Stares forever.
“We’ve decided you’re one of us.”
“Huh?”
“We’ve decided you’re one of us. Do you want to be one us?”
“Sure.”
“Good. Tonight, we all fuck you.”
“Obviously.”
“Tomorrow, we break out.”
“What?”
“We’re breaking the fuck out. Heil Hitler.”