Prisoners To Pay Rent – 17 October 2013

Posted: October 17, 2013 in Dialog, Prose
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

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womanbox

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17 October 2013

Metro shouted to me as I was crossing the street. “I haven’t seen her here today!”

I replied, “I see someone in her spot. I’m going to check to see who it is.” Yesterday it was Angeline, a very pretty woman. I said to her, ‘We’ve met before haven’t we?’ ‘Yes.’ she replied. I said, “I’m Dennis and you’re Angeline, am I right?’ ‘That’s right,’ and she smiled. An ominous looking man with a beard was standing about twenty feet away. I suspect that he was her boyfriend or bodyguard.

As I came neared I recognized Joy. She waved. I said, “Hi, Joy, how are you feeling today, still sick?”

“I’ve got diarrhea, it even woke me at two thirty this morning. I’ve been puking, I can’t keep anything down. I’m even puking up tea. The last thing I had to eat was a hot dog. You know what they’re made of?  Beaks and assholes. Surprisingly, the only thing I’m able to keep down is alcohol. I didn’t drink yesterday or the day before, but I’m drinking today. Excuse me, I’m just dying to have a smoke.”

I asked, “What other symptoms are you having. Is this still part of the flu you had?”

“I just feel wasted, man. I ache all over. My legs are sore, I’m used to that, but It feels like I’m dying.”

“Is your apartment warm yet?”

“Oh, yeah. My upstairs neighbor threw out an oil heater. I grabbed that. It really throws off heat. I don’t leave it on while I sleep, but that along with the heater Andre gave me and my oven, I’m toasty warm. I’m not staying down here long. I have to stop at the Metro, that’s the only place I can go with just one bus fare. I’m going to pick up some steaks. I’ll have to cut them in half, because I can’t eat much, but I love them. I also need toilet paper. The other day I was going to get a Tim Horton’s Steak panini, but they didn’t start serving them until eleven. I said, ‘You mean I have to wait two hours? Fuck that!’

I said, “I was talking to Little Jake the past two days. He told me that he had a seizure and fell backwards onto an open pair of scissors. He got a two-inch puncture wound in his back. His sleeping bag, mattress cover and mattress were all soaked with blood. He walked to the bathroom, blood was pouring out of his back.  He slipped in the blood, hit the toilet tank and fell on the rim of the toilet, breaking a rib.”

“And you believe that? Have you ever heard of anybody injuring themselves by falling on a pair of scissors? And the broken rib? He was beaten up and stabbed. He’s been letting the wrong people into his apartment. I don’t let anybody in that I don’t know. Usually I don’t even answer the door. I’m sure that he and Shakes are back to smoking crack. That’s how Wolf got his jaw broken.”

I asked, “What else have you been up to?”

“Mariah was down to my place yesterday. We started drinking at about eleven, while Charlie was messing around with something. She left him with a gram, so for him that would amount to two joints. He makes these big, fat mothers, then he runs out. I’d get four joints out of a gram. Later he came down and asked Mariah if she had any more. She said, ‘Nope, that’s the last of it.”

“So she hasn’t kicked him out yet?”

“Not so far, unless she did last night. She brought her vodka and she was drinking my sherry. She was shit faced when she went up at around four.”

“Did you get your check?”

“Yeah, I even found my Trillium check. I decided to look in my mailbox on the weekend. I wasn’t expecting anything, but there it was, all soggy and crumpled up. I think someone’s fucking with my mail. I’m pretty sure it’s the troll who lives at the end. My mailbox has a lock, but I don’t have a key for it. I have to kind of jimmy it open, so I guess anybody else could do that.

“I haven’t seen Hippo for ages. He often goes to the farm to visit with his mommy, but she throws him out after a couple of days. She can’t stand him. That’s where my jail mail goes.”

“What do you mean jail mail?”

“Well, Big Jake isn’t supposed to contact me. So any letters he wants to send to me go to Hippo’s address. The last letter I got from him had the return address of some other guy. I guess Jake did him a favor to send some mail for him.

“Have you heard that they’re going to start charging rent at some of the prisons, like Joyceville and Collins Bay? It costs one hundred and fifty thousand to keep somebody there. They earn some money, working in the prison, but that’s usually used for their canteen stuff. “

“What kind of work does he do?”

“Well, because he’s in his electric wheelchair, he really can’t do much. At least they let him use it there; at Collins Bay they wouldn’t. He had to get around using canes. The only work he does is making things to sell to prisoners, like the origami motorcycles. He could do just about anything, he’s one of those all-purpose tools. He could even be doing their income tax if he wanted to.”

“Has he had experience preparing income tax?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s good at figuring things out. That reminds me, can you look up the address for Canada Care. They want me to check on getting his wheel chair downstairs. As it is, he’d never be able to get down.”

I asked, “So, how has Frank been making out in prison. Has he been having a hard time.”

“He’s just being Jake, doing whatever Jake does. He doesn’t have any complaints. He loves it there. Sometimes he talks kind of faggy, on the phone, even when he was out. So, I don’t know what’s going on.

“See that woman in the striped dress over there. She’s carrying a baby and doesn’t even have its head covered. It’s too cold to have a baby dressed like that. Humans!”

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Comments
  1. billiamholt says:

    All the issue’s that they could be reflecting on to help themsleves, and they are worried about a baby without a head covering. Addiction is a bitch!

    Like

  2. cindy knoke says:

    If they can’t pay the rent do they not have to go to jail?

    Like

  3. annafrys says:

    i copletly love your blog

    Like

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