One of the thing we seem to be producing here in the prison is masochists. I've spoken before about those who thrive on any sort of attention at all, even if it's negative. And they seem to get stuck in that loop until it gets to be old hat.
They know that once things get to a certain point, someone is going to pepper spray them and several large men are going to come in and thump on them until they stop whatever it is they are doing.
Yet they persist.
Just like young TNT the other day. He knew that he was skirting right on the edge, so he had a t-shirt wrapped over his eyes so he wouldn't get much spray in them when it came down to it. But he was ready for us to come in and demanded and even dared us to open his door and come in. Luckily (I guess), he backed down and decided it wasn't worth it and went to sleep instead.
And I know him. He would have screamed like a peacock if the door came open and curled into a little ball. And then he would have cried that we hurt him. But the minute it was over he would have started right up again.
I'm sure some of you remember the punk we had the four hour use of force on a couple of years ago. He liked it so much you basically had to beat him down until he got tired and decided to quit. Just a skinny little punk but he really enjoyed the pain.
And some of you might remember the old guy we have a few years ago. I don't quite remember where he went. An old head (and quite crazy) who used to be quite the badaxe out on the hill in his day. Known for beating up on staff. When the urge came on him if he couldn't get a staff member of his cellie to beat him up, he'd lay in his bunk and punch himself in the face over and over again until his eyes swelled shut and his nose was bleeding.
That man was scary. And crazy as a bag of leaky donut holes.
And there was one other guy. Haven't seem him for awhile, but he was real good at hurting himself, if nobody would do it for him. One day he got hold of a paperclip and bent it out straight and broke it in half. Then he proceeded to stick the pieces of wire under the skin of his arm until they had to be surgically removed. And when he called me over to his cell, he very calmly told me he had to go to medical and showed me his arm. I broke out in a cold sweat, myself.
Pain addicts. I'll bet if we hired a handful of professional dominatrixes to work here, they would be standing in line to get locked up. We'd have to kick them out of the Adseg unit for punishment.
Squirrely damn people, I swear.
"The Life (and Almost Death) of the Party" - By Jerry Zezima The Stamford Advocate For a geezer like me, it’s nice to go to a birthday party that isn’t your own because you don’t have to put up with wi...
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