Stone Sharp Vol.1

by White, Walt

  The cadre was a job where inmates got to leave the Federal Prison grounds and drive to another administration building where the top administrative individuals for the BOP were located and do things like lawns and bathroom trash for that facility. They all loaded into a van about ten people and drove Monday thru Friday to the administration building. They left at 8 a.m. and came back at 4 p.m. It was about an hour away from the facility.

  Every inmate wanted on that crew because if you left the facility for a short time each week, you felt more like you were a free man. You got paid more than ten times of what any other job paid, for the same labor. After being locked up for twenty plus years that small bit of freedom for some inmates was priceless.

  Most Federal Prisons have inside jobs that include labor. Some build car parts for the military, some making clothing, but no inmate gets paid a living wage for their work. The work is the jobs most people on the outside refuse to do, if they get offered the same pay as inmates. That’s why Prisoners were doing those jobs, they had no choice.

  Once you’re in Prison, your ability to ‘choose’ is non-existent. It’s either yes, or get thrown in the hole. They only get paid a small fraction so the government can say they are making money. It is one of the biggest crimes against society. Most people do not understand what is going on. Some industries are having their products made with slaves, Prison slaves. All the government must do is pay something, so it doesn’t appear to be slave labor even though it is.

  Some would argue that criminals deserved the grunt work, but most don’t realize that several people in the slammer aren’t evil. Half of the Prison population got locked up for drugs or some outdated meaningless crime that was on the books. Regardless of the reason people ended up in here, the labor was inhumane for anyone.

  SURPRISING FRIENDSHIP

  THE UNINVITING INMATE next to Stone’s bunk would snore and grunt like an angry African Rhino ready for a charge. His nickname was Rhino. The dude was a sloppy, angry, mess of a man. He would sleep almost all day and be up at night drawing pictures and watching TV, not speaking a word to anyone. He would not get up for Count, and the guards would leave him alone, too lazy to pick a fight with the giant man.

  He had been in for thirteen years and been in the hole most of the time, so he was a well-known guy who everyone in the Prison was eager to keep their distance from. They would laugh when they counted him, joking about there would never be a day they no longer had to count Rhino. They even chuckled at his annoying sleeping habits where he would snore like a freight train. Though they never said a word about it to him, like most people. Most inmates and guards left him alone and would not talk to him, and it was evident he couldn’t care less about it.

  Turns out he was sleeping during the day as a courtesy to the rest of the Camp, and they did not even know. He knew of his embarrassing noises, and he did not want to keep them up at night with his snoring. He had been requesting a CPAP machine for years and got ignored. Which was a mystery to Stone as he couldn’t comprehend how anyone could be able to ignore a problem like Rhinos? It was obvious he had Sleep Apnea.

  He weighed about three hundred seventy pounds and was mean as hell looking, wearing a permanent grimace wherever he roamed. The gruffness of his features alone was enough to keep people away. He had dark, distant eyes and an unattractive buzz cut with scars all over his arms and back from knife fights in the Medium Security locations he had been serving time in. He was Mexican and about six feet four in height. Anyone one who didn’t know him could only guess the lengths of his negative energy, but if you knew him, you’d realize he wasn’t all that bad of a guy. Now he was a big teddy bear and a peaceful person which was a surprise to everyone.

  One late night Stone could not sleep and went into the TV room to watch TV. Rhino was in the room watching TV, and Stone struck up a conversation.

  “Where are you from?” Stone said.

  Rhino stared at him for a moment, as if he got surprised someone was making small talk with him.

  “Austin Texas.” He said.

  “A Longhorn fan, right?” Stone said.

  “Yes diehard,” Rhino said.

  “I played football at Oklahoma,” Stone said.

  “What position did you play?” Rhino said.

  “Receiver.” Stone said.

  “I feel sorry for you being at such a terrible University,” Rhino said.

  “It’s a pity.”

  “You know what they say, Sooner born and Sooner bred and when I die, I’ll be Sooner dead.” Stone said.

  Rhino lets out a loud laugh.

  “What the hell are you doing down here Sooner?”

  “El Reno was full, so they put me down here. I was shocked when they said that, I never imagined I’d go to prison but if I did, I didn’t expect it to be so far away from where I lived.” Stone said.

  “Figures,” Rhino said.

  “They got a racquet going with this Incarceration shit. The whole system is fucked up. The longer you’re in here, the more you realize it.” Rhino said.

  Then he turned to the screen, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was heading.

  “I am watching an old western. I love these old movies.” Rhino said.

  “What movie is it?” Stone said.

  “John Wayne in McLintock,” Rhino said.

  “It just started. Do you want to watch it with me?”

  Stone looked at Rhino, unsure of if he was being genuine or not but was surprised to see what seemed like almost a desperate look on his face.

  “Sure,” Stone said.

  That night a good friendship got born. Stone wasn’t afraid to talk to Rhino like the rest of the Camp. The more they talked, the more he realized how much he appreciated Rhino’s perspective and admired his drive. He saw him as a lonely guy in Prison who wasn’t looking for any handouts.

  “I know I’ve done bad things, but unlike most of the inmates in here, I take responsibility for it. I know I belong here. So many guys in here think they’re above this place. I can tell you right now they’re full of shit. None of them take responsibility for anything.” He said.

  Stone remained silent about his opinion on his own sentence, as even though he knew he was a special circumstance, he didn’t want Rhino to comment on it. He felt like if he had told him about his reasoning for being their Rhino would somehow make Stone feel like he deserved to be there. Even though Stone understood was false.

  Stone and Rhino talked about many things in the next couple of days. Rhino wanted to learn about banking and real estate, and Stone enjoyed listening to all of Rhino’s crazy stories about Prisons. Rhino had been in Seven Federal Prisons all over the US in the last thirteen years. From FCI Medium Security to FCI Lows to the Camps. He was an Artist and had done tattoos all over.

  “Guys would line up just for my ink,” Rhino said.

  He considered the distance, reminiscing about the past.

  “I knew I was good on the outside, but in Prison, I was the best. There wasn’t one man in any Prison I got located without at least one tattoo done by me. I don’t do it anymore at this Camp, I’m retired.” Rhino said.

  “Does anyone still ask to get some ink?” Stone said

  “Why you interested?” He said.

  Stone turned red and looked down.

  “Just curious.” He said.

  Rhino shook his head.

  “Some of the Mexican Crew comes up and asks, but I always tell them no. They’re respectful about it, never argue or nothing.”

  Stone started walking on the track with Rhino too.

  Their unexpected friendship caused controversy in the Camp. Whites and Mexicans did not hang out, and everyone knew it. Stone got flak from the old Whites who sat on the bleachers every day.

  When Stone was exercising alone, they would tease him,

  “Why the hell do you walk with a Mexican?”

  “He is just someone I talk to, he is cool.” Stone said.

  “Don’t h
ang out with that taco eater it will get you in trouble dude.” One said.

  Rhino and Stone paid little attention to the people on both their sides giving them shit. If nothing was ever said to someone, they weren’t bothered by the comments. Though after about a week Stone could tell significant spite and tension rising in Rhino. He complained about the ‘disrespectful slime’ in the Prison that ‘didn’t know what acceptance was if it hit them in the face with a brick.' Stone laughed at his reactions and joked back with him.

  One day in the chow hall an old White man called Tex came up to Stone.

  “You a taco eating Mexican lover, Stone,” Tex said.

  Spit flew from his mouth as he pronounced each word.

  Stone sat in quiet shock. He had never been so directly attacked from someone in the Prison. He was good at keeping his head down, and Tex had announced his choices to the whole dining hall.

  “How about I show you what we do to crossovers in here!” Tex said.

  Tex charged at Stone, his fists raised and an enraged, crazed look in his eyes.

  Knowing he did not want to participate in a fight, Stone braced himself for the brutal impact of Tex’s fists but instead heard a loud,

  “Boom, Crack!”

  Confused, Stone opened his eyes to see a crumpled Tex sprawled out on the floor. He noticed the large crowd surrounding them was dead silent. Rhino stood over Tex’s limp figure, his body engulfed in pure rage. His fists remained frozen in the air, and he stood as if he was waiting for the defeated human to fight back.

  But there was no hope for Tex as Rhino had knocked that asshole out with one hit.

  “Off to the hole with him.” Signed one guard.

  Stone’s heart dropped as two guards pushed through the crowd. They walked right past Rhino and went straight to Tex to cuff his unresponsive figure.

  Wow, I didn’t see that coming. I thought.

  The guards didn’t even give Rhino a second look as they propped Tex on their shoulders and dragged him out of the room. That moment confirmed in Stone’s mind that no one wanted to fight with Rhino. He was the toughest dude in the Camp, to the guards and inmates. He was the most untouchable man in the Prison, which couldn’t have been an easy status to gain. Stone wondered who Rhino was on the outside that could have made him so…feared and respected in the slammer. Not even Big Tokey wanted to mess with Rhino when he found out about the incident.

  After that Stone had no single fear or care about associating with Rhino. The teasing had come to an abrupt halt after the fight, and the two were much left alone to do as they pleased. Stone found it ridiculous that a display of power had to get done to get left alone, but that’s how it worked in Prison. Power was everything. And without it, you’re subjected to those who could hold every tiny mistake you made over your head. Even though he was comfortable being with Rhino, Stone still sat and ate with the White guys. If no one said a word to Stone about his friend, there wasn’t much of a problem. Occasionally, a joke would get cracked, but it was almost always harmless.

  Stone and Rhino trained together. Stone could see Rhino’s mood improving, and his weight dropped as they trained together. It was obvious they both found solace in each other and found extreme joy in conversing. Stone found comfort in knowing at least one other person in the Prison had similarities to his opinions and thoughts on things. He felt like he could have a logical conversation with the guy, and he had to admit, it was comforting.

  Stone remembered his weight lifting routines from his college football days and showed Rhino what to do lifting weights. Rhino had admitted he didn’t remember a thing from his own football days for weight training but Stone was happy to guide his new friend. Both guys improved in Strength and Stamina using weights. Once they worked up a tolerance, they included running in their workout sessions. Stone saw his figure returning. His big belly was disappearing. His wind had improved, and his muscles took shape again.

  It was almost time for the annual Iron Man Competition for the Camp, so they both trained together. When one lost hope in his own physical strength, the other would push him to work harder, and vice versa. Stone was content with the bond he had made with Rhino and hoped they’d remain good friends throughout his sentence.

  MICROWAVE CHEFS

  IN EACH LAUNDRY ROOM toward the back of the facility were a big folding table and a microwave. Each person wanted to eat food cooked by a select few what we called Microwave Chefs. The most popular items for the Camp was chicken, bean and beef burritos. Each chef had their own version of the burrito. Each chef would name their burrito so inmates would know who cooked it and who to buy from if they wanted it. You knew if a special chef prepared the burrito it would be good and to your taste buds.

  Stone learned how to make a burrito watching Rhino make a version of his own. Rhino had an old fishing cap and would put it on while cooking.

  “I need my hat to cook my magic,” Rhino said.

  It was silly, but every Chef seemed to have a hat on when they cooked too. It was their own spark of personality they somehow believed improved their cooking to a level was above anyone else’s.

  Stone would peer over his shoulder, and Rhino would grunt.

  “My eyes only,” He said.

  Then give Stone a teasing smirk before scooting over for him to watch the process.

  Each Chef needed several hardware essential items such as bowls, cutters, stir sticks, and napkins. The bowls get made by cutting the bottom of an empty wholesale five-gallon pickle bucket in half. The line guys would empty the pickle buckets during chow and save them for the Chefs. They would measure it and make sure it would fit the microwave then cut the top off.

  The next item to cook was a knife or what they called a cutter. This gets made from old metal in the yard by the guys in the shop. It was a square piece of metal about five inches by five inches sharpened on a brick out back. Chefs would have someone sit and go back and forth for hours until it was razor sharp. Inmates would hide the cutters in-between the lockers so guards would not see them because if they saw, it was to the hole for having a weapon.

  “You need sharp cuts. Makes all the difference in cooking. I will tell you that those knives cost guys a shit ton of sausages though.” Rhino Said.

  “Not so bad if your foods good. People pay big bucks for my magic burritos.” Rhino said.

  Next was wooden rods made to stir a big batch of food. The wood came from the trash dumped in the boneyard. Every week Prison workers would unload items that broke or wore out into the bone yard. The inmates turned these things into working items for the Camp.

  “I made my cutting boards out of old plastic sheets from the shop. Looks just like the one you get from Walmart, but better. I engraved my logo in it to make sure everyone knows it’s mine and not to mess with it. We call it tatting it up.” Rhino said.

  “Looks awesome,” Stone said.

  “You’re a talented artist.”

  “Hope I’m not overstepping here, but why do guys take this so seriously? There’s got to be easier hustles out there that you don’t have to do this much work.” Stone said.

  Rhino shrugged, unfazed by the question.

  “It’s a damn good income if you're dominating the game. I don’t think there’s a man in this Prison that hasn’t tasted one or two of my burritos. Being precise with cooking is just how you get to the top. Food is king in here, it runs everything.”

  Stone was shocked at Rhino’s uncanny motivation to get as detailed as possible. The guy had not taken care of himself, so he got surprised to find he was so careful when dealing with his food.

  “Now the one thing more important than your knife is fresh vegetables. You’ll never have the best burritos without veggies. They're an essential part of it all.” Rhino said.

  “Do the food warehouse guys get them for you?” Stone said.

  “Yeah, they get onions, tomatoes, bell peppers, and jalapeno peppers since you don’t need to refrigerate them. They sell them to the store guys w
ho would sell them to me. That’s why you always got to avoid upsetting those guys. If they cut you off from their supply, your whole business gets fucked.”

  “Why don’t inmates just get it from the warehouse guys directly if you get blackballed from the storemen?”

  “They don’t like the risk of selling to individual guys. The store guys always pay on time. They do that to always have control over the food. If you had a business wouldn’t you want to know you’re getting paid?” Rhino said.

  It’s not an issue unless you get blackballed, which is hard to do if you’re a chef. Those are one of the largest returning customers in the Prison, so for a store guy to blackball a chef, they would have to have done something stupid.”

  “Now the other valuable thing you have to be careful with is the meat. If you’re a high-level Chef, you don’t buy meat you haven’t watched get packed or packed yourself from the store guys. Food warehouse guys wrap the meat in this thick plastic wrap, so it’s hard to say what they would put in the meat beforehand. You must watch those guys like a hawk. A lot of Chefs like to oversee the process themselves that’s just being professional.” He said.

  “I’m one of those guys.”

  Rhino told Stone about all the tiny stuff in the business. He was one guy that would talk your ear off about it if he got the chance. He thought he had the whole game figured out, and he wasn’t wrong. Rhino had been the first guy to make him a burrito in the Prison, and as much as he didn’t like to admit it, his were by far the best.

  His eyes lit up as he spoke about each phase of cooking.

  “Fucking up someone’s order is the worst thing you could do. If your customer wants spicy cheese instead of regular, and you gave him regular, you’ll lose a customer. Same thing if you forget the pickles.”

  “Over something so small?” Stone said.

  “You’d get surprised. Seen several picky motherfuckers in here. Blackballed a few myself from my burritos because of the disrespect.”

  “Do you ever add special stuff in there for customers? Like custom orders?” Stone said.