Prison Etiquette

What was it like, you ask? Well let me tell you one thing: everyone was nicer in prison.

For example, today, some bitch collided into me as I made my right turn, the one after the second drinking fountain, into the lunch room. Her mocha-latte-frappa-chino-whatever spilled all over my new suit. It was new because I had lost 40 pounds while serving my eight months. I thank God they gave me this job back.

But yeah, this bitch. Splatters her coffee all over my person, and you know what she says to me? "You're lucky I'm late to my executive (she enjoyed stressing that word) meeting, otherwise you'd be buying me a new one, asshole."

And that was the extent of our interaction. No apology, no help cleaning myself off, nothing. That's the one thing I miss about prison: everyone one was polite. Here's a story that will knock your D & G socks off. One day in the lunch room, something like what just happened to me, happened. Except it was between a Crip and a Neo-Nazi. That's right, you heard me. But you know what they did? The Neo-Nazi apologizes and help the Crip clean the mess up!

Not here, though. Out here, everyone's a fucking animal.