Mind your business.

I was in prison for two years. 

It was nothing.

When I first got to prison, I was scared shitless. See I had heard all the horror stories, stories of men being raped and sodomized.

Had been told several times not to drop the soap. Still, don't understand why people think that is funny. 

I never found prison to a hard place to function. There are simple rules that you have to live by. Most of those are handed down by the Gang Related inmates I really should say convicts, there is a difference.

Follow those rules and the ones that are set down by the institution, and your stay will be easy.

Having a bad reputation really helps with your survival in prison.

I wasn't well-known on the street so, Fortunately for me, some idiot tried me within moments of walking into my dormitory. The explosive display of violence cemented my place in the predator category and not that of the prey. 

I came to find out though that I needn't have been as violent. The only men then I saw get violated in prison were not behaving like men. Yeah, I actually saw it happen my first night and that's really what this story is about I ramble sometimes. 

I had just arrived at the processing prison. This is where murders, rapist, pedophiles, and habitual drunk drivers, are treated equally.

 In the row with me was a white guy with a mouth full of gold.

The Sargent paused in front of him. 

"Boy, is them golds removable?" 

The cocky kid replies. 

"What you thank I'm broke boss? This that genuine gold." 

The Sargent laughed.

 "Are you affiliated?" 

The tall slim blonde made a diamond with his fingers and pronounced; "Solid"

I was surprised. 

Wasn't aware that the "Four Corner Hustlers" accepted white guys, however, I'm not a 4CH, so it wasn't my business. 

That's one of the first lessons you learn when you go to prison. 

Mind your business. 

Anyway, when the Sargent heard what the white guy said it sent him into a fit of laughter and the last words he said as he walked away were:

 "Let's see how that works out for you." 

I gave that conversation little thought. I was attempting to wrap my head around what was happening with me at the moment.

The diagnostic or placement prison rushed myself and other prisoners through physical and mental tests.

After several hours and a couple of speeches including one from a sergeant who kicked a quarter the entire time he spoke we were housed.

We were taken to in open dormitory. 

Gang symbols flashed as we the “fish” walked in. Those who were affiliated went off to talk to their “Cousins, Bloods, People, or Folks."

 I waited. 

 I saw my kind. 

Just wanted to unpack. 

They came to me.

In the form of one of my brothers nicknamed "Dirt".

The slim gold toothed white guy had made friends fast. 

He was engaged in a loud animated conversation.

I wasn’t trying to hear it but it was sprinkled with a lot of “My Nigga’s” myself and a few others were obviously bothered by it. 

The brother sent to screen me and assure that I really was a member of the organization noticed my discomfort. “Say folk, we let them handle they own scandal. Just be glad he anit claiming to be one of ours.”  

By lights out, my folks “Dirt” had introduced me too a couple other GD's and we had figured out where I fit into the hiarchy. 

Lights out brought a flurry of activity. 

The gay cons who had chosen their mates made their way to them. This happened whether that person was a willing participant or not. 

The slim white kid.

The slim white kid was still with the same two four corner hustlers. 

I heard them tell him “we’re going to rap in the shower the echo is better.” 

Yeah.

That didn’t sound right to me. 

Still, anit my business. 

However, the sounds of struggle coming from the shower motivated me to strap on my boots. 

Dirt came over to my bunk, “Gangster if you move we move. Just know brothers anit gonna be happy saving a white boy that don’t got nothing to do with nation business.” 

I could hear the kids pleas.

"Hey my nigga what are you doing?!” 

Hear the slaps, punches and his head slamming. Then came the grunts and screaming. “Bitch, since you been calling me your nigga act like I’m your nigga.” 

I untied my boots. 

I went to sleep.

 In the morning the same white guy was taken to medical. 

All of his teeth had been knocked out. I remember seeing one of his “friends” mailing those gold teeth home.

 Because of my gang status I was shipped quickly. Day one of my stay in my new home I beat a convict who called me pretty. Wound up on solitary. 

A few months into my sentence I was given a pathological liar for a cellmate. 

He claimed to be an up and coming rapper, to have mafia ties, made up one lie after another. 

My cellmate had a friend.

 To me it seemed like they took turns trying to out lie each other. 

I regret my part in this dudes downfall but it played out the way it played out. 

My celly's friend was standing in the mirror “rapping” badly.

 He used the N word liberally, despite being white, he also was disparaging to Southerners despite being in the south. 

I had been taking a shower when I overheard him. I told him “Aye don’t let that shit tumble out ya mouth no more boy!” 

I finished my shower. 

Walked to my bunk.

My cellmate and the offending would be rap star were sitting on my bed. 

I walked up just in time to hear him tell my celly. “If I saw that nigga Marco was on the street I’d have something done to his punk ass!” 

Well, I’m Marco and in prison you can not allow someone to call you a punk. 

So I slapped him.

 Then I slapped my cellmate.

 Told both of them to pack their stuff. 

The captain on duty called me out of the pod. “Coleman what the fuck is the problem?”  

I explained that the disrespectful youngsters could not live in the building with me. 

I suppose the white kid was really afraid. 

He requested protective custody. 

So my source in solitary told me the rest of the story. 

He came to Solitaire with the same attitude. 

Still telling lies. 

His cellmate in solitary had smuggled in some marijuana, he offered to smoke it with him.

Once they were high the predator says; “Man I forgot to tell you when I smoke I get horny.” 

See me personally if he had said something like that to me he would have worn an ass whooping immediately.

Not so much this kid the next thing I heard or saw he was a full-fledged “boy”

He should have stood up to someone. 

Me, or his rapist.

 Of course if he had just minded his own business, not tried to be someone he wasn’t he could have completed his time untampered with.  All he needed to do was mind his business and keep to himself.