Life

This story is about the 5th or sixth times I did Melbourne Assessment Prison. I was given a bottom cell because I got given a billiard job on Spencer Street, and everything was going sweet until this young person, who had a grudge against me for some reason, kept coming around my cell. First, he tried to make a move on my shoes in his cell with three of his friends. He asked me if he just took my shoes off me, what would I do. I told him he would have to wipe the blood off them first, and he was debating with me whether it would be his blood or my blood. I just said, "find out," then he left.

He came back by himself with a ping pong ball full of matchheads but only about a quarter way full and a piece of paper rolled up coming out the end of the hole. He put the match head through and he lit it or tried to light it in the middle of the cell floor. I knew what he was doing, but I had to ask him because he came in unwelcome and just doing it. I asked him, "What are you doing?" He said, "I'm doing something I can't tell you right now," but when I light it just leave it there, basically pleading with me to leave it there, not standing over me like he was attempting doing before. He left the cell and poked his head in and out about three times before he left the hallway.

When I thought he was gone, I picked it up, and I thought either there's not enough matchheads in it or it's missing one valuable substance and accelerate maybe because that piece of paper will just keep going out every time it runs out of air, and there's not much air left when there is a smoldering bit of paper inside it burning. I put it back on the middle of the floor and laughed. He came back in about five minutes later. I said, "Am I missing something?" He said, "You're lucky it didn't work. I'm trying to smoke you out. Even if it did work, I was going to put my lips against the outside window air hole slots if I run out of oxygen in the cell." Then his friend came in, a tall lanky fellow who gets picked on by the group. He was standing outside the cell threatening me. I told him to come in and say that. We had a tussle, or I lifted him up with his back legs pulling them up and sending him through the shower, but standing up at the same time as the shower curtain from falling. The TV fell off the bench, the kettle got broke, and we ended up stopping the fight. I'm pretty sure I won it because he was the one that wanted to stop.

Then it came around where the screws tick on you, and I was cleaning up myself trying to make the best of it, but couldn't hide the shower window. He came in and saw the glass, and he knew it was a fight because he saw the glass came inside the shower instead of outside the shower. If I had fully been in the shower like I was if I had a full in the shower, the excuse I was using, then he talked to me and said, "I know you had a fight. Who do you have it with?" I told him, "Listen, you will make more advice hell in here if you make me give up someone. I'm not going to say, not out of disrespect for you, sir, but for the code we live by in here. And anyway, it's over now, and I will pay for the things broken in the shower, everything."

When I was finished with the screw, taking full responsibility for everything broken, I talked to one of the old-timers, and he said to me most of half of mainstream would have told the screw what happened and who did it and not taking the money out of their own account, taking the full responsibility of the fine. They told me they were proud of me, and not many people would do the same thing. Then they sorted the problem I had with the standovers