Chapter Eighteen: Rooster – Time on My Uncle’s Farm

Chapter Eighteen: Rooster – Time on My Uncle’s Farm

Chapter 18 of the Autobiography... Letter R, Rooster.

Chapter Eighteen

Rooster – Time on My Uncle’s Farm

When I was growing up I spent a lot of time on the farm owned by my Uncle “Butch”. I was always excited when my parents planned to go to his farm to visit. He had dairy cows, beef steer, chickens, and even a goat in his front lawn at one point. As much as I grew up around people farming and whatnot, I still didn’t spend much time on farms outside of his. It was the one time I could go and explore the world on my own terms. I could get on his four-wheeler and take off to wherever I wanted to. He lived on a dirt/gravel road in the middle of nowhere outside of Marshfield, WI. So I could even ride the four-wheeler down the road as long as it was at a reasonable speed. Behind his farm property he owned some wooded land that he used during hunting season, and I would go exploring in during the non-hunting season. I could spend all day out there depending on the amount of gas I had in the tank. Worst case scenario, I’d just ride back and get some more. I got to ride on tractors, four-wheelers, three-wheelers, and even drive a truck once when I was really young. I don’t recall how old I was exactly when I did all of this stuff, but I know I had a great time. 

 My Uncle taught me how to milk a cow when I was pretty young too. That skill just kind of stuck with me and I’m glad for it too. Since then I’ve worked on a couple of different farms and had to milk cows on them too. 

 One summer when I was really young my Uncle told me that if I went out to the chicken coop and caught a chicken, then he’d give me ten dollars. So I went out there and was chasing chickens around for what seemed like forever. When I finally got one of them cornered I started to close in on it and it was hopping and flapping and scratching and squawking and screeching like all hell broke loose. I managed to finally close my hands around its neck, but not until after it had scratched and cut me up from head to toe. After that I took the chicken to my Uncle up by the house and told him I finally caught a chicken for him. He told me to go ahead and just set the chicken down on the ground and he’d pay me the ten dollars he promised. I argued right away that I had spent almost an hour trying to catch this chicken, but he stood his ground and asked me to put it down anyway. When I put it down he handed me a twenty dollar bill. Then I asked him why he gave me a twenty instead of a ten and he replied, “Well, that’s because you brought me a rooster.” Ever since then I paid more attention to the difference between a chicken and a rooster, and during that time, I realized how unbelievably mean his rooster actually was. I’m surprised I still have both of my eyes today. 

 Now, as much as I enjoyed spending time on my Uncle’s farm when I was growing up, I also had one of the worst memories of my life happen there too. It was November 21^st, 1997, and my Brother, my Dad, and I were all staying at my Uncle’s for deer hunting season. It was a Friday night and the following morning was opening day. It was a typical “guy’s night out” for those times. We didn’t have very many times that we were all hanging out together anymore since my Brother and I were growing up and had our own friends. So when the three of us would go out for deer hunting season, we would have as much fun as possible. Well this year it included us meeting at a local bar and having some drinks. But for whatever reason my Brother and I had been taking our time with meeting everyone there. By the time we had decided to go by there my Dad’s truck was gone from the bar. Instead of looking for him, my Brother and I decided to just go back to my Uncle’s house and call it a night. Shortly after that we were sleeping in the living room when I heard my Dad stumble into the living room and plop down in the recliner sitting next to me. When I asked him where he had been and he replied with some slurring nonsense, I knew something was wrong. I was dreading turning on the light, and when I did, I don’t think I could have been prepared for what I was about to see. He had blood running down his face, blood on his hands, and blood running down his leg. His pants were tore wide open and the little bit of his leg I could see on the inside was tore wide open. I immediately woke my brother up and then my Dad starting asking me where his truck was. So I had my brother look after him while I ran outside to see where his truck was, but all I could see was his foot tracks through the fresh snow. So I ran back inside and told him his truck wasn’t out there. He still couldn’t remember where it was either. My Brother and I agreed that he needed to go to the hospital so I ran upstairs to get my Aunt, and was surprised to find my Uncle in bed with her also. I had thought all along that my Dad was out with my Uncle and that the truck was wherever my Uncle still was. Now things got confusing for me. I told them that my Dad had walked back to the house and was covered in blood and we didn’t know where his truck was, but I needed someone to give him a ride to the hospital. My Aunt told me she’d taken a prescription sleep aid, and my Uncle had been drinking, neither one was able to drive him. I’m unsure exactly how my dad got to the hospital after that. I think I was somewhat in a form of shock. But I think my cousin came by the house and drove us there while my Brother went out looking for my Dad’s truck. 

  When we were at the hospital they were asking all kinds of questions about how he had been hurt and no one had any answers. No one knew anything about how it had happened, yet. Next thing I knew a couple of Sheriff’s deputies walked in looking for my Dad. I didn’t know what to think at that point. All in all they told me he was involved in a high speed chase with a civilian, had crossed the center line, exceeded one hundred miles per hour, driven through some people’s front lawns and finally ended when rolling his truck a number of times into a corn field. No one found either him or the other man who was originally seen in the truck, until then. By now it was November 22^nd, my fifteenth birthday, and I was so scared for my Dad at this point. I didn’t know what was going to happen after that. It became a turning point for my Dad, but unbelievably it didn’t phase me into even considering the least bit that maybe the same thing could have happened to me when I would drink and drive after that. I consider myself a lucky person today and will never forget my fifteenth birthday for the rest of my life.

Chapter Eleven: Kitten – My First Cat

Chapter 11 of the Autobiography... Letter K, Kitty.

Chapter Eleven

Kitten – My First Cat

  When I was nine years old I used to attend church almost every Sunday with my family, with the rare exception if we were too sick to attend. At this time of my life we were attending Jefferson Prairie Lutheran Church that was in the country a few miles south of where my house is. One morning the whole family was climbing into the minivan to leave to church when I somehow noticed a sound coming from underneath the minivan. It sounded raspy and I don’t know how else to describe it even yet today, it was unusual. When I looked underneath the minivan I saw a tiny gray kitten. It was curled up near the front tire and might have been killed if I hadn’t looked under in time to get it out. When I picked it up I asked if I could keep it and they told me they would think about it and let me put it inside until we came home from church and had more time to discuss it. 

  After coming home from church I was so excited to just be home to play with the little kitty. Funny part is, that’s what I named her, Kitty. We had her taken to the vet to have all her immunization shots done and to make sure she was an all around healthy cat. She ended up being one of the most interesting cats I’ve ever seen. We had her front claws removed for the sake of our furniture, but that didn’t bother her a bit. She got so good at defending herself with her back claws. She would get right in the middle of a pile of dogs and go to sleep, and would even dare our Rottweiler to chase her around the house. She never got caught, and even if she had been, they always got along great. There were never any serious scuffles between any of them in the many years that passed. She was intended to be a family cat from the start, but like most occasions when we’ve gotten a pet for someone in particular, she ended up favoring me. Most times that I wasn’t around she would make her nest at the very top of my dad’s recliner behind his head. The times that I was around though, she would always be right there to try to make a bed out of my lap. She was supposed to be an indoor only cat because I was always told, “She can’t defend herself without any front claws.” Well, I beg to differ. She was damn good with those claws when she wanted to be. On occasion she would sneak out the back door unnoticed when someone was going through it, but she wasn’t out to get into any trouble. She would wander around in the yard and explore. She never went anywhere outside of the yard and when she got the grass she usually just flipped over onto her back to roll around in the little bit of nature that she had around her. She had one unique trait about her that I never saw with any other cat. She was almost completely mute. She could barely rasp out an almost meow. I could tell it was her because I was so used to it, but she hardly ever made a sound other than that. Unfortunately little Kitty wouldn’t live forever, but it almost seemed like she was going to. After having her around for almost eighteen years, she started having more issues with bladder infections and digestive issues, so we thought it was the most humane thing for us to let her move onto the afterlife. It was a hard decision for me to make since it was left primarily up to me, but I couldn’t stand to see her suffer anymore, and she wasn’t getting any better. I still miss her. R.I.P. Kitty…

Chapter Nine: Ice Fishing – Cold Winter’s On The Ice

Chapter 8 of the Autobiography... Letter H, Hangover.

Chapter Nine

Ice Fishing – Cold Winter’s On The Ice

  Ever since I can remember I would go ice fishing on the frozen lakes in the wintertime with my dad. When I was young, we would pull the car up near Whitewater Lake and then we would hike out to our predetermined fishing area. We always seemed to catch our limit of fish at these times. As we got older, I remember him pulling his car or truck right out onto the lake itself. We would then get our gear out and fish nearby the vehicle. I had so much fun out fishing with my brother, sister, and dad. It’s been a long time since we have all gone fishing together, but I’m sure we will again soon. 

  Around the time I turned twelve or so, we got a few snowmobiles. So when we went ice fishing we usually brought two of them with us. I recall one winter day while out ice fishing, my dad and I decided to shoot around on the lake with the snowmobiles. Well, what we didn’t notice the open water in the middle of the lake that was made from the geese. They huddle in one specific area on the lake and for some reason the water won’t freeze there. Well, just when we were right about on that area of the lake we noticed the open water and veered off in time to hit an area in the ice that had buckled upward due to the ice expanding. It sent us both flying off of our snowmobiles, along with bending our skis at almost a ninety degree angle. I helped my dad up off the ice and made sure he was okay, luckily the air was only knocked out of him. We did our best to flatten the skis back out before starting the snowmobiles back up and heading out for the day. We’d had enough at that point. After that there had been a long gap that I didn’t go ice fishing for a long time. 

  Then, a few years ago my dad started getting more motivation to go out fishing in the winter time. So we got all the ice fishing gear together and my brother and I both got new snow suits before we went out fishing. For the last few years we’ve done quite a bit of ice fishing and it made me so happy to be able to go out and spend the day with my dad and brother without any other kind of distraction. We would drive to Madison, WI and pull the ice shanty out onto Monona Bay. Once we got some holes drilled into the ice we usually would manage to do so much better than the people fishing near us on the ice. I guess the luck was just with us when we went out there. Someday when my niece and nephew get a little bit older I hope they decide to go fishing with us out on the ice. Some people think it would be too cold to sit out on a frozen lake for most of the day jigging for fish that are sometimes only a few feet below where you’re sitting, but in all actuality, it’s really not that bad. When you get inside an ice shanty the sunlight naturally will warm it up. So it wasn’t all that unusual for us to strip off our super warm snow suit to fish in a t-shirt and jeans while we were inside the shanty. 

  In the last couple of years that I went back to ice fishing we usually caught our limit of bluegills and crappies within three hours of hitting the ice. That’s pretty good ice fishing in my opinion. I can’t wait to get back out there and do some more fishing as soon as possible.

Chapter Six: Father – My Dad

Chaper 6 of the Autobiography... Letter F, Father.

Chapter Six

Father – My Dad

  My dad’s name is Vern and he was born in Janesville, WI on August 15^th, 1957. His parents had divorced when he was young and he grew up with nine brothers and sisters. They had a farmhouse in the country that allowed him to roam around and get into all kinds of trouble. He was a typical kid growing up in those times. He had fun, and got into his share of mischief too. When he was a teenager he moved to Montana to live with his grandfather on his ranch. They did all kinds of different stuff out in the mountains, but the thing I was told most about was how strict my great-grandfather was. My dad and him would spend the day digging post holes and putting up more fence along the property line. They each had their own horse to get around on the property too. I heard stories about how people would come out there panning for gold even. It reminded me of the wild west when I would picture the stories in my mind. They also went hunting a lot back then. Bear, elk, deer, you name it, they hunted it. When he was sixteen years old he joined the US Army and was stationed in California. I don’t remember what ranking he achieved by the end of his duty, but I remember being told that he drove trucks there. Before the end of his term in military he had a bad car accident. He and some friends were off base one day and they were driving down the highway in a pickup truck. Two were in the front, and my dad and one of the others in the bed of the truck when the driver lost control of the truck and ended up going off the side of the cliff. The two men in the cab of the pickup truck died at the scene, but my dad and his friend in the back managed to survive through it by some miracle. The other man in the back of the truck with him lost a great deal of skin due to sliding down the highway, and my dad shattered his femur, broke a number of ribs, punctured a lung, and broke his neck. He was stuck on the side of the cliff and although he was as hurt as he was, he still was trying to get up so he could climb back up. His friend told him to stop and wait for help because he wouldn’t have been able to make it. He ended up in a nearly full-body cast for nine months due to his injuries, and in a wheelchair and crutches for quite some time after the cast was removed. After recovering from the accident he was discharged from the Army with a medical discharge and was granted disability. He then came back to Wisconsin to be with his family again. I don’t believe he was back for very long when he met my mother whom he married in 1978. They’ve been married for thirty-two years now and have three kids together, including my brother, my sister, and myself. My dad did his share of drinking while I was growing up and quit after he had a car accident on my fifteenth birthday. Although he had difficulties with it at first, he has been sober for over eleven years now and regardless if I’ve told him or not, I’m proud of him for it. He’s been a great role model my whole life and I’ve always looked up to him. Growing up with my dad was great at first. We spent so much time together fishing, camping, and just spending days together. He was a truck driver the majority of his adult life. After leaving the military, he took his experience and continued it as his career. He worked at a number of different jobs driving trucks and at the end of it all, it ended up taking a huge toll on his body. Between the accident he had when he was in the military, the accident he had on my birthday and his everyday life in the cab of a semi, he had really done some damage to his back. He developed a genetic deterioration of his spinal column and had to have a number of back surgeries. This has been an ongoing issue for him for a lot of my life. By the time I was a pre-teen I began to despise him due to some underlying issues I’ve had with him. I look back on it today and I know it was mostly from the lack of attention I was getting from him. Once I began acting up negatively toward him and I was getting into all sorts of trouble, we started growing apart. I don’t think either of us really sat down and thought our relationship was falling apart because of this. I think we thought it was due to other reasons. After having addressed some of these issues with my dad after coming to prison in the fall of 2010, I think we have finally started to close the gap between us. We are starting to understand each other a little more and starting to understand why we have done some of the things we have done to one another. I still love my dad unconditionally and want him to be a bigger part of my life. He is still a role model to me. He’s lived a difficult life and survived through some very tough times and I commend him for that. I know I have said to so many people that I don’t want to be anything like my dad. I’ve even said that living with him was a learning experience, it taught me how to not raise my kids. But looking back on all of that, I know now that it was so far from the truth. I can only hope to be as good of a man as my father one day. To be able to raise my children as well as he raised me. To find a wife that is as great as my mom has been. Sure, I’ll do some things differently, but he didn’t have a manual to work off of. He did as good as a father should be expected to do.

Bombarded By Some Quite Disturbing News

Journal entry...

4-29-2011

Day 12

  Today I was bombarded by some quite disturbing news. I found out my Dad is going to need another back surgery. This makes me nervous enough as it is. I’m scared for him. It only seems like he gets worse after every surgery. Not only did they tell me this, but they also found out he’ll need to see a Vasculatory Surgeon prior to having the back surgery. Apparently his legs are swollen, turning black, and he can’t feel his feet. No one seems to know why, but they need to get it fixed before they can operate on his back. I know this would be happening regardless if I were out there or not, but it reminds me that my Dad is doing things at home that he shouldn’t be and wouldn’t have to if I were home to do it for him. I feel partially responsible for his condition. Not to mention, I wasn’t told about his condition willingly, I had to ask how he was doing before they said anything. I feel like they don’t tell me a lot when I’m locked up. Like I need to ask specific question to get answers.

(Counselor note – How old is your Dad?)

~J. Doe

My Favorite Person in the World

Journal Entry....

4-25-2011

Day 8

  My favorite person in the world is my Mom. She’s an understanding and loving mother to me. She has been here for me unconditionally throughout my life. My Dad comes in with a close second. He is all of these things, although he and I have a few small issues. My Mom has been here to do anything in her power to help me along the way. Sometimes I might not agree with her decisions, but she always knows best. She knows what will make me a better person. Her problem solving skills are built in naturally. She always seems to have the best advice, and she knows me better than anyone else in the world. I love both of my parents equally, but I have to admit that my Mom is my favorite just by a little bit.

(Counselor Note - So… Why do you disappoint her?)

~J. Doe

Bombarded By Some Quite Disturbing News

Journal entry....

 

4-29-2011

Day 12

  Today I was bombarded by some quite disturbing news. I found out my Dad is going to need another back surgery. This makes me nervous enough as it is. I’m scared for him. It only seems like he gets worse after every surgery. Not only did they tell me this, but they also found out he’ll need to see a Vasculatory Surgeon prior to having the back surgery. Apparently his legs are swollen, turning black, and he can’t feel his feet. No one seems to know why, but they need to get it fixed before they can operate on his back. I know this would be happening regardless if I were out there or not, but it reminds me that my Dad is doing things at home that he shouldn’t be and wouldn’t have to if I were home to do it for him. I feel partially responsible for his condition. Not to mention, I wasn’t told about his condition willingly, I had to ask how he was doing before they said anything. I feel like they don’t tell me a lot when I’m locked up. Like I need to ask specific question to get answers.

(Counselor note – How old is your Dad?)

~ J. Doe

Prison Cell Cooking: Tacos!

Written on March 5, 2011....

   Today I signed up for a phone call at 6:00PM so I can tell my family of the outcome of my staffing yesterday. I slept all morning after breakfast until lunch. Then after lunch my cellmate went to a visit to meet his step-mother. He hadn't met her ever before, apparently. So his Dad and her came today. Unfortunately he missed Rec due to this again. I had to give him shit about it later and told him he'll have to work out twice as hard Monday. LOL!

   The rest of my day was spent reading for the most part. I got a letter and greeting card from my Mom saying this was the first week she hadn't received a letter or call from me and she was worried. After sealing her envelope, she must have gotten my letter, because she wrote, “Just got your letter today” on the back of her envelope. I couldn't wait to call home at that point. I don't like my Mom worrying about me. So at 6:00PM I called home and talked to her for a while about my staffing. She seemed neutral about the whole thing. She is mysterious in that way. You can hardly ever tell how she feels about something and she usually keeps what she thinks to herself, unless you ask. So since I didn't ask, I don't know. We talked about my brother and his job, and my Dad and his ongoing medical problems. The conversation was happily ended by me talking to my favorite nephew, Logan. “Logi Bear” was telling me how he was playing his game on the computer with his Nana. I told him I missed him and loved him, and hoped I could see him soon. He replied likewise and nearly made me cry. I miss him so much!! I ended the call as usual by telling my Mom I loved her and would write or call when I knew more about what was going on.

   For the rest of the night I kept thinking about my nephew and the phone call. Later I made prison-made tacos. I used Raman Noodles, jalapeño chips, cheddar cheese, and Cheetos. I mixed them together and added water to cook them. Once I let it sit and it got thick, I split it in thirds. One for the swamper, one for my cellmate, and one for me. We each wrapped ours in flour tortillas, crumpled Doritos over the top, and added hot sauce. It was delicious! I got compliments from both of them, along with others from the unit who could only smell them. After eating, I cleaned up and read my book until after midnight when we shut off the light.

Until tomorrow...

~J. Doe

Mail May Make You Cry

Written on February 17, 2011...

   Today I woke up feeling like crap. I was completely stiff and my back was killing me. This stiffness wasn't like the other times I worked out hard; it was different. So, for the first time since I've been able to go to Rec, I chose to stay in my cell. I took my shower before everyone else even went to Rec, then came back and went to sleep. When I woke up the Sgt. was calling chow while unlocking the cells, so I'm guessing he wasn't paying attention to the time. My hair was a disaster from going to sleep with it wet, but I couldn't care less in here really. After chow we came back and did count. I sat staring out my window, daydreaming, for more than an hour before they called people out for Library passes. I forgot to turn my request in over the weekend, so I didn't go. I laid down for a bit just thinking, and the next thing I knew it was 3:30pm and the Sgt. was passing out mail.

   I received two letters today. One from the Appellate Court telling me that my lawyer didn't file my appeal in time and they would not be taking my case. Now this really pisses me off because the initial appeal was filed due to misrepresentation by my attorney. Now he conveniently files my appeal too late. I'll have to speak with another attorney about this before I just admit defeat.

   On a more positive note, I received my first letter from my father directly. I have received letters from my mother relaying messages or telling me how everyone is. This is the first solely from my Dad. He and I have our differences and disagreements, and I have been wanting to put them behind us. I want to address the issues, solve our problems, and have the relationship I've always wanted with my Dad. I love him to death, but always fear losing him before putting these problems behind us. So, while I am here, I will begin to address the issues with him via letters. The real work will come after I am released. I love my Dad unconditionally and want to have a positive relationship with him. I hope this is the beginning to that. His letter, I admit, made me cry. As many have from my Mom since coming to jail and prison. I am learning about how my actions have directly affected everyone around me, as they are learning about why I am the way that I am, or have done the things that I've done. My Dad hit the nail on the head when he said, “There was something that I heard on TV: that a young adult said that his father only gave him attention when he did something wrong; that's why he did things wrong. I don't know if that was part of the reason for why you did the things that you did, but it's food for thought.” I have thought this, exactly the way he said it, for many years. But I refused to ever say it as it sounded like a cop-out, an excuse, or as if I was redirecting the blame. I am who I am by personal choices I made throughout my life. Maybe the lack of attention was initially why I did some of the things I did, but I still did them, fully aware of the consequences. I will probably wait until later to actually write him back, after I've read his letter a handful more times. I've already read it four times. It means a lot to me.

   For the rest of the night I sat around reading another book and ate some noodles with jalapeño cheese. My cellmate and I cut the lights off about 10:00pm and called it a night.

Until tomorrow...

~J. Doe

Family Support Feels Good

...finishing the writings of January 26, 2011

  At 7:15 PM I got to make my call home.  It was nice to talk to my Mom.  It's always nice to hear from someone you care about.  She said everyone is doing well at home and she asked if my sister was approved for visitation as she'd like to come visit this weekend with my parents as long as the weather was decent. I let her know my sister was approved, then asked how my brother was doing.  She said he had some job offer near Middleton.  Apparently it's for a CNC machinist related position, which is his specialty, but the distance is the problem.  I know he hated driving back an forth from Madison for his last job, but hell, if they paid me enough I'd drive wherever.



  My brother was originally the one who asked if I was interested in doing some sort of daily log noting how everyday life is in the Wisconsin Prison System.  I thought it was a great idea and just recently started, while figuring I'd only have a small amount to write about every day.  Well, after starting this and writing daily for only five days, I've realized there is a lot more to write about than I thought.  I just want to be as descriptive as possible so anyone who reads this can get a full visualization of how it's like in here.  I just hope my brother can keep up with typing these for me.  I'm sure I have much more free time to be writing than he does. 



  If anyone has any questions for me please feel free to post any questions and I will respond to them as soon s I receive them.  Or, if you'd like to write to me personally I'd enjoy having a pen pal to communicate with. 

(His address was given but this was before he was told I felt it important to keep it more anonymous.  If you are really interested in writing you can contact me and if I don't see any reason not to give his address information to you I'd be more than happy to offer it.  email: prison.gates@gmail.com  facebook: http://www.facebook.com/PrisonGates  or twitter:  http://twitter.com/prisongates   ~ "3rd Party")



  I'd like to let my brother know how much I appreciate him posting my logs for me as I know it will be time consuming.  I hope somebody takes some kind of interest in reading these as well.  I'm not quite sure if something like this would be interesting to other people or not, or if my writing style is even interesting enough.  I guess we'll have to see...  For now I'm going to read some of my book before I call it a night.  Until tomorrow...



~ J. Doe

Being Gay is Contagious?

Written on Wednesday, January 26, 2011...

  It's been a typical day for the most part.  I signed up to be a swamper, so when our swamper leaves, maybe I can get the position.  It's nothing special really, but it helps pass time and I'm sure it can't hurt for when I get staffed.

  I forgot to mention, I received a visitation list yesterday.  This one included my sister.  So now, both my Mom, Dad and sister are on it.  Maybe they'll come visit this weekend.

  For some reason I was really tired today and managed to fall back asleep after breakfast and sleep until lunch.  After lunch I read for a while and then we did clean-up around 2:00 PM.  The C.O. working 2nd shift today isn't a usual unit worker.  So, he felt the need to do cell inspections during clean up and took our chip bags that my cellmate and I use to cook noodles in.

  Fifteen minutes after clean-up was Rec. from 2:30 PM to 3:20 PM.  While we were at Rec., our other C.O. decided to full cell searches.  They tore our bunks apart and searched our property lockers.  They took anything they felt was unauthorized property.  Including my paper bag I kept all my paperwork in and the salt packets the nurse gave me.  The bag was gone, but I showed them my paperwork from the H.S.U. for the salt and tylenol that the nurse gave me for my swollen tonsils a few weeks ago, so they gave they gave the salt packets back.  Later, I noticed they also took my empty peanut butter jar I used to mix my powdered milk in.  They can keep it, it's not worth the argument.

  At dinner a whole bunch of people were giving the swamper shit because he got a cellmate earlier.  Since his his cell only has one bunk the new cellmate has to sleep on a mat on the floor for now.  They were messing with him because the new cellmate is quite feminine, if not openly gay.  I think I might be one of the few people in here who is straight and has gay friends.  They act as if it's contagious.  I'm not going to get on that subject right now.  The last time I did, I argued with my cellmate for nearly two hours before giving up due to frustration.

~J. Doe