Prison Lunch (by the Occult Killer)

Dubbed the Occult Killer by the media, Brandon is serving 6 to 12 years in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania Department of Corrections. His crime: he killed his best friend in a drunk-driving accident. When police investigators discovered Gothic paraphernalia in his bedroom, they claimed Brandon had committed a sacrificial murder for the benefit of Satan.

It is just after 11am on a Friday in early December. My unit, Foxtrot-Alpha, is in the middle of mainline movement in chow hall #3. That is, we’re eating lunch. I stare over my plastic tray of cheese steak hoagie and out the barred windows at falling snow, blown horizontal by vigorous wind. Gazing down at the steaming side-pocket of vegetable soup, I’m suddenly very thankful for a hot meal.

Seated with me at the four person table are two friends, Bill and Mike, and an unknown from I-Block (intake), his new ID number and crisp, shining state-issued brown uniform give him away.

The usual small talk and ball-busting abounds while we assemble and otherwise prep the food to our liking. Mike and I are busting Bill for moving cells yet again, telling him we’re running a pool on how long this one lasts. I chuckle and dip my spoon tentatively into some scary-looking cheese whiz, just touching it to my tongue for a taste. For years now, they done away with real cheese and replaced it with a rancid, garlic-loaded, powdered alternative. This stuff looked different.

“Holy Shit,” I gasp.
“What?” asks Bill. “That bad?”
“It tastes like pepperjack,” I sputter. “It’s delicious!”
Mike lifts his head, “Hmm?”
Bill snorts, “Get the fuck out of here!”
“Fine, then don’t eat it,” I say, greedily dunking my hoagie in its warm gooeyness.

In seconds our faces are smeared with whiz while we chomp away, sighing and groaning with delight.

Bill: “This is so good, it’s worth doubling up for!”
Me: “This is so good, it makes me want to break the law all over again!”
Mike: “This cheese is so good, it must be poisoned.”

We all stop dead, steal glances at one another and burst out laughing.

“Think about it,” Mike continues, “That week of the tomato recall, we had fresh tomatoes for the first time in years. And the egg scare? Eggs for breakfast every other day.”

We roared. “He’s right,” I squeaked, my voice strained with laughter, “We had spinach almost every dinner after the E. coli outbreak! As we speak, truck loads of tainted stadium cheese is on its way to every prison in PA!
We’re all gonna die!”

Bill: “Geez, I wish we had some tainted t-bone steaks and poisoned Budweiser.”
Mike: “Fuck, I’m telling the powers that be that blondes, brunettes and redheads are not fit for human consumption.”

We continued to giggle and list the “unfit” things we so desperately wanted that moment until the meal was done and it was time to return to the block and wait for midday count.

Click here for Brandon's previous blog.

Click here for Brandon's review of Hard Time.