Chapter 11 Part Two (1)

"What kind of tricks are you playing next?" I will go on, this is the tragic part of the story of the No. 84 State Prison that made people cry.Brothers, my only friends, you don't want to hear about the filthy horror that makes my parents thump their chests, dad throwing his bruised and bloodied hands at the unjust god in the sky, mom pouting wow Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, lamenting that the only son, the sweetheart, is so useless and disappoints everyone, and the stern old magistrate of the lower courts said some very nasty things about my lord, your friend , even though del Todd and the cops have done all the bloody, filthy, filthy slander before, god damn it.Then came detention among stinking perverts and dirty criminals, and then a trial in the High Court, with a judge and jury in attendance, and some down-to-earth swearing in a very dignified way.After that came the "guilty" sentence, when they said "fourteen years in prison", my mother burst into tears, and here I am now, kicked and banged into the No. 84 State Prison for exactly two years, dead Wearing a prison uniform, it was a dirty dung-yellow jumpsuit with the number sewn on the chest, above the navel, and on the back. And it's not your buddy Alex either.

"What kind of tricks are you playing next?" I was imprisoned in this hell hole, a human menagerie, for two years, kicked, shoved, and dealt with lecherous criminals by brutal guards.Some of the criminals were real perverts, ready to drool over a pretty young man like the Narrator anytime.Being in jail is not enlightenment, not at all; moreover, the State Prison forces prisoners to stick matchboxes in the workshop, to play in circles in the yard, and sometimes an old professor will come at night to explain the beetle, the Milky Way, "Snowflake's Brilliant Strange Story", this last lesson made me laugh out loud, I thought of that winter night, shoving and vandalizing the old man coming out of the library, before my buddies rebelled, and myself Happy and free.

Speaking of the former gang, I only heard one thing. One day, P and M came to visit the prison, and I learned that George was dead.Yes, dead, brethren.Like a shit pile on the road.It is said that George led the other two into a wealthy family, knocked the owner to the ground, punched and kicked, and then George began to tear the cushions and curtains, and Dim touched a priceless ornament, like a statue or something. The unkempt rich man was furious, picked up a heavy iron rod, and charged at them.Candide rages with brute force, and Dim and Peter jump out of the window to escape, but George trips over the rug and lets the dreadfully swung iron bar crash down on Gulliver, and that's the end of George the Traitor.It makes sense that the old man's murderer justified himself in self-defense, and George was killed, even though it happened more than a year after I was caught by the cops.The morals of the world seem to be reasonable, and this is like the fate of tit for tat.

"What kind of tricks are you playing next?" It was Sunday morning, and I was in the Wings Church, listening to the preacher in prison preach the gospel of the Lord.I was tasked with managing the old stereo, playing serious music before, after, and between hymns.The Wing Church has four places in the No. 84 National Prison. I stood behind the church, close to the place where the guards stood with guns. The dung-yellow prison uniforms, a dirty smell rising from them, not unwashed, not filth, but a special stench, only prisoners have, brothers, dusty and greasy A greasy, hopeless smell.I thought, maybe I also have this smell, and I have become a real prisoner, even though I am still young.So it's of the utmost importance to me, my brethren, to get out of this stinking, dirty zoo as soon as possible.As long as you read on, you will know that it is not too long before I go out.

"What kind of tricks are you going to play next?" the prison instructor asked for the third time. "Is it going in and out like this, entering the palace more than going out, or listening to the gospel of God, realizing that there is an afterlife besides this world, and that punishment awaits unrepentant sinners? You are a bunch of damned idiots, most of you Sell ​​your birthright for a cup of cold porridge. Is theft, the thrill of violence, the urge to live a happy life worth it? We have undeniable evidence, yes, indisputable evidence, that hell It exists, I know, I know, my friends, I got a message in a dream, there is such a place, darker than a prison, hotter than the flames of the world, the souls of unrepentant sinners like you - don't Look sideways at me, damn it, don't laugh - people like you, listen, screaming in endless, intolerable agony, with the smell of filth stuffed in your nose and burning shit in your mouth, Skin sloughing off and rotting, a ball of fire spinning through screaming viscera. Yes, yes, I know."

At this moment, brothers, a prisoner somewhere in the back row released the lip music "Pu-le"; the cruel guards were dispatched immediately, and quickly rushed to the place they identified to make the sound, savagely beating the sticks, and calling names from left to right. people.At last they found a poor trembling prisoner, who was nothing more than a wizened old man, and dragged him out, all the way crying, "It's not me, it's him, behold," but it was no use.He was beaten to pieces and pushed out of the church, still screaming. "Okay," said the instructor, "Go on to the Gospel." He picked up the big book "Bible" and flipped through it, licking his fingers and dipping in his saliva.He is a big, strong bastard with a red face, and he likes me very much. I am young, and I have developed a strong interest in big treasure books.According to the arrangement of the prison, I have to study this book intensively as a continuing education. At the same time, I am allowed to listen to the audio in the church while reading. Brothers, this is really good.They locked me in and made me listen to Bach and Handel while reading the great book about the ancient Jews who killed each other and drank Hebrew wine and slept with their wives' handmaids, nice Wow.It's the stuff that keeps me going, brethren.I don't quite understand the second half of the Great Treasure Book. It seems to be all preaching, not marching and fighting and pumping and lusting.One day, the instructor hugged me tightly with his thick arms and said to me: "Ah, number 6655321, think about the suffering of Christ. My child, it is good to reflect on the suffering." Inhaling the manna-like strong smell of Scotch wine, he ran to his small room to drink a few sips while talking.So, I carefully read the scourging of Jesus, the crowning of thorns, and then the crucifixion, etc., and I saw the truth more clearly.My beloved Bach was playing from the stereo, and I closed my eyes, and I could see myself assisting and even presiding over the torture and crucifixion of Jesus, dressed as if in ancient Roman attire—the toga.So being in State Prison No. 84 was not completely wasted: the warden was very happy to hear that I had taken a liking to religion, and that was where my hope lay.

This Sunday morning, the teacher read from the book that someone heard the gospel but couldn’t hear it at all. It’s like building a house on the sand. The rain is pouring down, and the thunder rumbles on the zenith, and the house is for fun. Finish.But I think only a stupid person will build a house on the beach, and his buddies are really a bunch of cynical people, and the neighbors are also bad-hearted. Go give pointers.At this time, the instructor shouted: "That's right, you big fellows. Let's turn to the fourth, third and fifth songs of the "Prisoner's Hymn Book". After singing the hymns, it will be over." The prisoners picked up and put down the books, licked their fingers and turned the pages of the dirty little poetry collection, and the guards shouted viciously: "Don't talk, you bastard, I see you, number 92537." Of course I am prepared The record was ready, and it was devoted to simple organ music, the vigorous "Gwawah, wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" the prisoner sang very badly:

They howled and wailed stupid lyrics, while the teacher was urging them, "Louder, damn it, sing it"; the guards were screaming: "Slow down, 7749222", " The turnip eaters are coming for you, shit." After it was over, the instructor said, "May the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit bless you forever, and make you do good, amen," and everyone staggered out to the accompaniment of Adrian The excerpts from Schwank Selba's "Second Symphony" are selected by me.I thought, there are really a lot of people; I stood next to the stereo and watched them drag their feet, yelling and bleating like animals and leaving, pointing with dirty fingers, asking to be louder , because I seemed to be in special care, the last one lolled out, his arms hanging like an ape, and the only remaining guard slapped him loudly on the back of the head; I turned off the stereo, and the instructor walked away smoking Recently, the priest's uniform has not been changed, and there are a lot of white lace on it, just like a girl's platties.He said:

"Thank you again, little 6655321, what news do you have for me today?" I know that this teacher is striving to become a great saint in the prison religious world, and he needs a certificate issued by the warden. So he goes to the warden from time to time and whispers what kind of conspiracy is brewing among the prisoners, and he relies on me to get a lot of this kind of nonsense prison news.Most of these things were fabricated by me, and a small amount was verified. For example, there was a tuk-tuk, tuk-tuk knock on the water pipe in our cell once, saying that the big man Harriman was going to escape from prison.He was going to knock down the guard during the excrement time, and then put on the guard's uniform to escape.Another time, because the food in the cafeteria was bad, they were going to make a big fuss by throwing the food around. I reported it when I found out. .So this time I say, without basis:

"Well, sir, from the water pipe code, a batch of cocaine has arrived through illegal channels, and there is a cell in the fifth row that will be used as a distribution center." I made up stories as I walked, and I have made up a lot of stories like this A lot, but the instructor was very grateful, and said again and again: "Okay, okay, I will report it to my lord." "My lord" is what he called the warden. I said: "Sir, have I tried my best?" I always use a very polite gentleman's tone to my superiors. "I'm trying, aren't I, sir?"

"I think," said the Instructor, "on the whole, yes. You have been very helpful and, I think, have shown a real desire to repent. If you can keep it up, the commutation of your sentence will go well." "But, sir," I said, "what about this novelty that people are talking about? New treatments that get you out of jail right away and make sure you never go to jail?" "Oh," he said sharply, "where did you get that? Who told you such a thing?" "That sort of thing goes around, sir," I said. "It seems that two guards are discussing. Someone will inevitably hear it. Someone picked up a newspaper in the workshop and said everything. How about you apply for me? Sir, please forgive me for asking." He could be seen smoking a cigarette, thinking about how much he should reveal about the incident I mentioned.Then he said, "I think you mean the Ludovigo technique." He was still cautious. "I don't know what it's called, sir," I said. "Just knowing that you can get someone out quickly and make sure you never end up in jail again." "That's it," he said, looking down at me, eyebrows shaggy and drooping. "Almost. Of course, it's still being tested. Very simple, but very violent." "It's being tested here, isn't it, sir?" I said. "Those new white buildings by the south wall, sir. We saw the new buildings being built, sir, during the exercise." "It hasn't been tried yet," he said, "not in this prison. My lord has a lot of doubts about this, and I have to admit, I have doubts too. The question is whether this technology can really make people good, and kindness comes from the heart. Yes, No. 6655321, kindness is a chosen thing. A man ceases to be a man when he does not choose." He would have gone on with a lot of this nonsense, but we listen The next group of prisoners came down the iron stairs to listen to the sermon.He said, "We'll talk about that another day, and now it's better to play the opening piece." I went to the stereo and put on Bach's "Wake Up" chorus overture, dirty stinking bastards, criminals and psychos, like A bunch of beat-up apes waddled in, and guards and guards snarled and whipped them.Just listen to the instructor ask them: "What kind of tricks are you playing next?" This is familiar to you.We had four sermons that morning, but the instructor never mentioned the "Luo technique," call it whatever you want, brethren.After I finished playing the stereo, he just thanked me briefly, and I was taken back to the sixth row of cells, which was my smelly and crowded home.The guard wasn't too bad, opened the door and didn't push or kick me in, just said, "Here, boy, back to the tavern." A heavy sentence, but thank goodness no sexual perverts.Zuofa, who sleeps on the bed, is black and thin, has a smoker's voice, and likes to chatter endlessly, so everyone doesn't listen to him very much.At this moment, he seems to be talking to himself, "You couldn't catch the strong man at that time" (you must know what it is), "Because you have to hand over ten million anti-aircraft guns, what should I do, I will go The Turkish store said that there is the strong man in the second largest store, look, what can he do?" He said all the old prisoner slang.And there was "Wall," a one-eyed man picking his toenails for Sunday.In addition, there was a big Jewish man, a fat man who sweated a lot, laying his dead body on the bed.Others include Joe John and the "doctor"; Joe John is ugly, warm-hearted, thin but strong, and his specialty is "sexual assault"; He had promised to help the two girls get rid of unnecessary burdens, but ended up killing them.They're a dreadful bunch of dregs of society, and I'm not at all happy to be in their company, brethren, you can understand that feeling, but luckily it's running out. You should know that when this prison cell was built, it was intended for three people to live in, but now it is filled with six people, all squeezed together sweat-stained.All the prisons, all the cells were like that in those days, brethren, what a filth and disgrace!Where is there any decent space for people to stretch out.If you don’t believe it, this week, the authorities threw another prisoner in. Yes, we just finished eating unpalatable gnocchi and stinky vegetables, and we were lying on our beds smoking quietly. This guy was arrested Pushed in.He's a skinny old man, and before we've had a chance to see what's going on, he's protesting loudly, shaking the bars and screaming, "I'm claiming my fucking rights, the cells are overflowing , Damn persecution, seeing is believing, that’s right.” But a guard turned around and said that he had to get used to it and share a bed with whoever was willing, otherwise he would have to sleep on the floor.The guard said, "The situation will get worse and worse, and it is impossible to improve. Who let you guys create a dirty criminal world?"