The View From Scranton

The Plot Worsens

I just found out they're moving me this aft to a filthy, rundown hole-in-the-soul across the street called MinSec. I don't know what the acronym stands for, but if the rep's to be believed, it stands for sheer unadulterated Hell. Really. Fights. Thefts. Rattings. And, if rumor holds, no time out during the week. None. There goes the bloggery. There goes E. City. There goes what little I've rebuilt of my so-called Life. I'm shaking I'm so upset. Literally shaking. And I'm not by nature a shaker. I thought this House would be my last stop before some kinda home; once again I thought wrong. Way wrong.

They don't make it easy. They don't make it smooth. They don't make it nice. I've done every trick my keepers have asked. And then some. Back flips. Somersaults. Ass-kissing. Genuflecting. Politesse. You name it. And what the fuck did it get me? Shipped across the street to a cesspool. Had I been bad they'd've kept me. Had I been real bad they'd never let me go. But I was good. One Good Hood. And I get baddened as a result.

That's what I get for having my tail between my legs. Coward. And the cowardice won't stop here. Not if I'm to stay even halfway at large. It's sickening what a man's gotta do to breathe even a little. To walk even a step. To think even a thought. Take your soul and swallow. You will not thrive here.

Bastards.

posted by John Hood. @ 6:12 PM