Xena's Tattoo

"Wanna see my wasp?" I heard Xena, a towering drag-queen friend, baiting fellow prisoners returning from the chow-hall one evening. Familiar with Xena's mischievvous nature, nobody took her up on the offer. As Shaun and I stood outside Shaun's cell, Xena approaced asking "wanna see my wasp?" "Oh no, keep that bloody thing away from me," Shaun answered. "Sure, let's see your wasp," I accepted the offer, which felt more like a challenge. The three of us went into Shaun's cell. Xena sat on the bed and whipped out *her* penis and sure enough, on the shaft was a 2 inch outline of a wasp. "Xena, your penis is way too big for you to be a girl," Shaun quipped. "Very nice, Xena," I complimented, adding, "I was going to get one on mine." "It hurts," Xena warned, with a flamboyant flick of the wrist. "Trust you to get a tattoo there," Shaun said, a hint of morbid curiosity in his voice. "Why not?" Xena exclaimed, playfully throwing her arms up? "Yeah, it gives the girls; or guys Xena's case, something to look at while down there," I jokingly added. Realizing I was in a cell with two guys staring at a penis, it dawned on me that it might be taken wrong if a guard or prisoner observed this. "It's time for me to go," I announced. With infamous Xena charm, she asked "Why? Where ya going? Don't get all shy now." "Shy... Hell, I'm embarrassed. You've got at least 8 inches there. I'm working with a little more than the standard white-boy issue here," I bantered as I fled the cell. The question remains: Why would a person want a tattoo on their schlong? Personally, I see mine an awful lot; even more so since my arrest, and tattoos are decorative. Freud would love this question ...

Slingblade: Man vs. Monster

Primal instincts seem to drive Slingblade. Eating, Sleeping crapping and expelling gases appear to be his only worldly cares. Slingblade, large at about 6ft. and 250 Lbs., poses a potential threat to anyone within reach of his powerful grasp. This is especially true since he is seriously mentally disturbed. When his face distorts, his large paws tightly clench and he appears to be in a heated argument, under his breath, with the demons swarming about him. Those near give him a wide berth. To prevent Slingblade from picking food from the trash in the chowhall, some prisoners have taken to offering him their food trays after they've finished eating. Slingblade eventually devours about five or six meals within fifteen minutes. Gutteral grunts, disturbed cackling laughter and belching seem to be signs of his appreciation for food. If spoken to, Slingblade provides short, choppy answers in a low voice. His ability to formulate and express a lucid reply makes me think that he snaps in and out of reality. Slingblade has been locked-up for over 2 decades, rumored to have murdered his wife with his bare hands, and is soon to be released unassisted. He is clearly not-all-there. Whose fault will it be if Slingblade reoffends? There is no readily available mental health care for newly released mentally ill ex-cons in Arizona. They are simply released with a 50 dollar check to fend for themselves, just like the sane.