09 Oct 06
Two Tonys Excites Yard 1
Wielding a stick, Two Tonys – wearing a baseball cap, smock, pants, and white New Balance – strutted onto Yard 1 and stopped at the basketball court. Inmates surrounded him.
“Two Tonys,” Too Tall said, “whatthafuck are you doin’ here?”
“I’m down here to run this yard, motherfucker.” Two Tonys slapped the stick against his left palm. “Don’t start no shit, and there won’t be no shit.”
“Wassup wiv da stick?”
“My teacher,” Two Tonys said, “Sister Teresa – God rest her soul – used to whack me in the head with a stick like this.”
The crowd laughed.
“And it didn’t knock any sense inta ya did it?” Red said.
“He’s gotta stick 'cause he’s turned kinky in his old age.”
“It looks to me like,” Two Tonys said, “you’ve got some of the kinkiest motherfuckers in captivity down here on Yard 1.”
“Shee-it. Just 'cause you’re a killer and Yard 4’s the killers yard, you think you can come down her and talk shit.”
“So what,” Two Tonys said, “if I’ve killed a few motherfuckers? So what if I’ve left a few bodies along the highway? All o' those punk-ass bitches had it comin’.”
A paint crew from Yard 3 sprawled over the basketball court. Two Tonys disclosed he was the overseer.
“Yard 1,” Two Tonys said, “changes motherfuckers. You guys come down here gangsteronies and killers, and leave outta the sally port with Bibles in your fuckin’ hands. Well, lemmetellyasomethin’: I’d like to come down to minimum and get me a Bible too.”
The crowd roared with laughter.
“I’m happy to see you motherfuckers,” Two Tonys said. “Now who’s gonna fix me up a sandwich, or get me a honey bun or a bagel or some shit?”
Within minutes, a man shaped like a tank, Jim Hogg, rolled up to Two Tonys with some bagels.
“I salute you,” Two Tonys said. “You are my ace cool spoon, my pride and joy, my dawg, a big-headed motherfucker, but still my road dog. Now who’s gonna get me a water bottle that no motherfucker has used, and wipe off the rim real good?”
A paisa produced a drink.
“Gracia',” Two Tonys said. “Que onda, paisa? Como estas?”
“How come they’re all paintin’ the basketball court, and you’re walkin’ around with your hands fulla bagels?” The inmate pointed at Two Tonys.
“Put your finger down, motherfucker,” Two Tonys said. “You’re not on the fuckin’ witness stand. And I sure as hell ain’t your crimey [crime partner]. I’m the supervisor of the paint crew, and it’s about time someone brought the boss a cup of coffee.”
“Whattup dawg!” Flaco said.
Two Tonys flashed a gang sign, and said, “I’m comin’ at ya live and unrehearsed, bro. The Mexicans aren’t fuckin’ with ya are they? If they are, I wanna know about it. 'Cause I’m runnin’ shit on Yard 1 today. And if anyone has a problem with that, I’ll peel their fuckin’ caps.”
“Why’re you bustin’ our balls? And why’ve you gotta stick?”
“To bust a motherfucker in the jaw with,” Two Tonys said.
“Do you still beat the fuck outta trash cans and walls?”
“Yeah,” Two Tonys said. “And the trash cans and walls don’t fuck with me no more do they?”
“Why dontcha lick my cock?”
“I’d rather,” Two Tonys said, “put a bullet in your head.”
“If you had your nines right now, who’d be the first on Yard 1 you’d put a bullet in?” Jim Hogg asked.
“There’s motherfuckers here who deserve to die but none of 'em are on my list.”
Later on, I managed to steer Two Tonys away from the crowd.
“How’s Mom and Dad doin’?” Two Tonys asked.
“Great,” I said. “They’re visiting soon. They told me you broke your comments record with Two Tonys on Drugs, with ten comments.”
“Which one was that?”
“The one where you’re driving down the freeway, all high, after whacking someone, and your decision-making ability is all messed up.”
“Yeah. That’s the time I had my .357 ready. If the cops had stopped me, I was gonna shoot it out with the motherfuckers.”
“My mum said a guy who was going down the same path as you, read that blog, and it’s influenced his life. Maybe sharing your experience saved him.”
“I often wonder late at night after whackin’ some flies and layin’ on my bunk lookin’ at the swatted flies on my ceilin’ if I was put on earth to whack motherfuckers or to save someone’s life. I wonder why I’m goin’ through all this sufferin’ and bullshit. Maybe this guy is saved. Maybe he’s gonna have a son or a grandson who discovers the cure for AIDS or West Nile virus. It mighta been my callin’ in life to save that guy.”
“My parents are sending stacks of blogs with comments, I can’t wait to read them.”
“You can’t wait. Howdja think I feel?”
“So you got a new celly?”
“Yeah. I’ve known him since he was thirteen. He used to wash my Eldorado. His playmates were my goombahdies’ kids.”
“How’s things with Ogre?”
“He’s stayin’ away from me - for the time being.”
“Are you still walking?”
“Every day. And workin’ out on the station. I walked seventeen laps on Saturday.”
“Yard 1,” came a voice over the speaker system. “Lock down. It’s count time.”
“Take care, little bro,” Two Tonys said.
“And you,” I said. “I’ll see you around.”
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Copyright © 2006-2007 Shaun P. Attwood