Stone Sharp Vol.1

by White, Walt

  He shook his head, “There’s not a lot of variety you can cook with. So, what the store guy provides you have to do.” Rhino said.

  “The single zesty thing is when bacon gets sold. But it’s never often, and it’s this thin, papery fatless meat that doesn’t add enough flavor. If a guy wants bacon on his burrito, he’s got to pay extra, but most of the guys in here aren’t that dumb to pay for something that adds so little.” Rhino said.

  One afternoon when Rhino was feeling extra friendly, he took Stone into his workspace to show him a few of the ropes.

  “Wash your hands first,” Rhino said.

  He instructed the second Stone walked into the cooking area.

  “Haven’t decided if I will let you touch the food, but just in case.”

  While Stone washed his hands, Rhino pulled out all the vegetables and sliced them into precise, even sizes. He then moved to the sausages after what seemed like moments. Even with the practice, Stone knew Rhino had a knack for making these, he was still amazed by his speed.

  ‘Hand me the pickle bowl,” Rhino said.

  Stone grabbed the jar and watched as Rhino drained half the bowl, then added water to it.

  “I add Sazon Goya to season the meat and warm it for five minutes. It’s a kind of spice, most of the guys in here are oblivious to.”

  He picked up the bowl after the five minutes were up and drained the remaining liquid into a separate bowl.

  “Then I add the refried beans to this bowl. It adds that much more flavor.”

  “The water from the cooked meat is almost like soup when you mix in some spice. It makes the beans come alive with flavor. Sometimes I add a small amount of this water to the cheese too. I call it my secret sauce.”

  “I would’ve never thought of that,” Stone said.

  Stone got shocked by Rhino’s knowledge in the kitchen. He knew the guy loved to eat, but he didn’t realize how good he was at making what he was consuming.

  “Go Heat the flour tortillas for me, would you?” Rhino said.

  He pointed at a huge stack of bags, eight-inch round flour tortillas lying unopened on the counter. Stone had pounced on the opportunity before Rhino had any chance to change his mind. Don’t open the bags just throw the whole thing in the microwave for one minute.” Rhino said.

  “Heat all the bags on the counter that way.”

  It wasn’t a huge job, but it had still shown the slight amount of trust Rhino was bestowing upon Stone, and he knew it wasn’t something to take for granted.

  Once Rhino had triple checked that everything got set, he called out his lineman.

  The eight men hurried to set up the folding table. Stone half laughed when he assigned each guy a separate item. He made sure one person each had sole responsibility for the onions, bell peppers, jalapenos, tomatoes, meat, cheese, beans, and the last guy was the tortilla roller.

  “They’ll be more careful when they have sole responsibility for something. It’s an easy way to get these guys to not be dumbasses while on the job.”

  The whole procedure was like a factory line. Each person added their own small item to the burrito and passed it down to where it would get rolled and packaged. It was like a Taco Bell line.

  Stone and Rhino stood back and watched as the guys worked. Stone had to admit he got impressed by their speed.

  “I pay these guys good money to go this fast. It takes a select few to be doing this shit. You need loyal people who won’t screw with your after product.” Rhino said.

  He was loud as if he wanted them to hear his comment.

  Stone got intrigued by the progress there were making in a matter of thirty minutes. They would make about two hundred at a time.

  Once they hit two hundred Rhino said.

  “All right that’s enough for now ladies. Take your burrito and hit the road.”

  Stone got surprised at the offer he gave his employees. He didn’t seem like the friendliest boss, but since he needed to keep their loyalty, it was more of a mandatory offer.

  “I got a list of people of who did what. Just in case anything goes wrong, I can track it back to the exact guy. Smart huh?” Rhino said.

  “That’s not a bad idea.” Stone said.

  After they got done, Rhino called in his delivery guys.

  “My guys are like Fed Ex.”

  “They deliver your order to your location in the facility. It is my special touch. If the dude that ordered gets the burrito handed to him face to face, then he can’t say he didn’t get his burritos. You must watch every angle in here because these fuckers will lie to you. If my guy says he delivered to a certain person, then I trust his word over theirs. Some chefs will put orders in the person’s locker, but that can lead to problems. If the lockers aren’t locked, then the burritos have a way of disappearing.” Rhino said.

  Stone had to give credit to the guy. He had everything in the business down to a science. And it wasn’t just burritos he could cook. With the right mindset, you could make as much food as you wanted to use that microwave. Rhino could cook hamburgers, desserts and just about anything requested in that tiny microwave. And though it was a tiny cooking device, he had a way of making it taste like a home cooked oven meal.

  CONTRABAND

  “SWEEP, SWEEP, SWEEP, everyone outside in the yard!” Came over the loudspeaker.

  A large Black Bus pulled up to the front of the prison camp building. Teams of men dressed in black came hurdling out of the bus. A Federal Team of Inspectors were looking for things they call Contraband. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it was a stressful event for everyone in the Prison.

  Without warning, the inspectors scream at everyone to stop what they’re doing and leave their bunks. They order all inmates outside into the Yard for a few hours until they get done searching the facility. They were attempting to find items not allowed. Inspectors would always find lots of items on their Contraband list. They give no warning and search the whole facility.

  “Outside now old man, just leave your cereal and go now. Now!”

  One young Inspector yelled at old man Q as he pushed and shoved him toward the outside door.

  I want to punch that guy in the face, but that wouldn’t help my situation. I thought.

  After the guards finish their uncalled-for search, we watch as individuals got grabbed and whisked into the hole or disappear altogether. The whole Camp waits in the yard wondering who they will take. Even if you weren’t hiding anything, there was still cause to be nervous. Some sly inmates would slip their own things into your area so if there were to be a sweep they wouldn’t get caught. You wouldn’t even know until a guard accused you. At that point, you were done, as there’s no way you could convince a guard it wasn’t yours. Such a thought to even say that was ridiculous and would cause a guard to laugh at you.

  They take from three to six men who disappear and don’t surface for six months. It didn’t matter how much of or what you were hiding if it was contraband, you got thrown in the hole. For example, a guy with a makeshift knife would have the same time as a guy hiding outside food. The guards didn’t care.

  There are thousands of men waiting for a bunk to open in a facility in the US. So, it is easy for Miss Angie to fill the empty bunks. The system swallow’s men every day and some don’t survive the time.

  Inspectors ransack the lockers and tear up everything looking for drugs, cell phones, guns, weapons, and items not allowed in the facility. The Federal Team pulls a large burn bin behind the bus. Inspectors put everything they choose into the bin and burn it on the spot, in front of all the inmates.

  Sometimes they will put your clothes, Commissary items, bowls, radio’s, and more. Inspectors would put things in there that weren’t even contraband because they could. If a guard had a grudge against an inmate, he could tip off one of the Inspectors, and they’d be eager to rip into the guy’s stuff. Then the Inspector would toss it into the burn bin. The whole Camp got pissed if they haven’t hidden something of value. I
nmates watch in misery as their items burn.

  “This one has a cell phone, sir.” A guard said to his Captain.

  “Throw it in the burn bin.” The Captain said.

  The long timers take the raid in stride because they know the places they overlook. But newcomers always get upset. The feds make the Camp look like a home burglarized. Stuff is strewn about everywhere. Things get ripped apart and crumpled, then tossed to the side.

  Stone thought the Prison Administration would tell the guys to make as much of a mess for the inmates to clean up as possible. When finished, they order everyone back into the building to clean up the mess. So, Inspectors mess up, and inmates clean up. That was the reason they ripped everything apart. It is just the way it goes. If they were the clean-up crew, they sure as hell wouldn’t be so brutal in their searches.

  The Fed guys identify the locker number they find Contraband inside. Then take the inmate to the hole who is assigned the locker.

  Miss Angie struts around with a list and a mischievous smile on her face. She loved to give Big Tokey and other inmates hell on these days. I think she enjoyed the chaos.

  “Big Tokey, you better not have a bucket full of fried chicken in your locker.” Miss Angie said.

  “I got nothin… but my Commissary items Miss Angie.” Big Tokey said.

  If you tried to stop the feds from searching your bed area or started a fight with them, they would cuff you on the spot. You might have an empty locker, and the team found Contraband items in your locker. It was an easy way to get rid of a few inmates they didn’t like. If you did something weeks before to a guard, they’d sure as hell remember it by the time the raid came around.

  The Prison Administration thinks it puts fear into the hearts of the rest of the inmates to make sure they follow whatever rules the administrators have come up with. It was a desperate ploy that pissed people off instead of making them fearful, but it was a used method in the Prison.

  Stone stood outside, crowded with what seemed like hundreds of inmates. Most them were discussing; who hid what where. Then there were the guys who you knew had something to hide because they stood, nervous fidgeting their hands. Some would even pace.

  Then there were people like Stone who would stand and wait to go back inside because they had nothing to hide. The one worry Stone had was another inmate slipping something under his bunk while he wasn’t looking. But there was no one in the Prison he identified with a serious grudge against him or would need to hide their stuff in his bunk.

  “You worried?” A calm voice said.

  Stone looked to his right to see Bruno smiling at him. He could assume that he had seen Rhino and Stone together and assumed Stone was an all right person to talk to.

  “I got nothing to hide.” Stone said.

  “You sure no one hid something for you?” Bruno said.

  The question made Stone’s heart leap. Was he trying to tell Stone that there were items hidden in his bunk? Bruno must’ve seen the look of distraught on his face because he laughed and added, “Don’t worry, I don’t know about anything.”

  Stone let out a cool breath and returned Bruno’s smile, “Oh. I don’t think so, I can’t think of anyone who would.”

  Bruno nodded and crossed his arms, “That’s what I thought a few years back. Then I got dragged to the hole for a knife. I wondered the whole time I was there who could’ve done it. If it was a direct attack, or if someone was trying to play it safe.”

  “How long have you been in this damn place?” Stone said.

  “Sixteen years, three months,” Bruno said.

  “That’s a long time, man.” Stone said.

  “Well, did you ever figure it out?” Stone said.

  “Six months later I find out one of Big Tokey’s associates hid it for him. Wasn’t nothing’ against me, but it still ended with me in the hole.” Bruno said.

  Stone felt nervous.

  “And you didn’t know?” Stone said.

  “Don’t worry, chances of that are slim,” Bruno said.

  Stone knew the statement was a lie, but he appreciated that Bruno was trying to make him feel better about the situation.

  To get his mind off the thought, he inquired more about Bruno’s run in with the hole. He’d heard horrible things about it, but no one ever told him about it. No one wanted to.

  “What’s it like in there?”

  “What, the hole?” Bruno said.

  Stone heard Bruno’s voice falter before he cleared his throat.

  “You’re stuck in a room six by six with a toilet and bed twenty-four hours a day. It’s enough to drive a man mad.”

  “The smell is awful too. It has the smell of death ingrained into the walls.”

  “Worst punishment there is.” He said.

  Stone’s stomach churned.

  “That sounds horrible.” Stone said.

  Bruno laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

  “You better believe I was out for blood when I got back. Most people are. But unlike most guys in here I used my head.”

  “What do you mean?” He asked.

  He stared at Stone as if the answer was blatant.

  “You try to fight an inmate right from the hole, you’ll just wind up in the same spot again, but for longer,” Bruno said.

  “Isn’t that obvious?” Stone said.

  “You wouldn’t believe how reason slips a guy’s mind in the hole. For most of them, once they get out, there in a blind rage with whoever was the reason for their stay.” Bruno said.

  “Damn, wouldn’t want to be one of those guys.” Stone Said.

  Bruno shook his head.

  “Yeah. Instead, I ignored it. But I sure as hell made sure they recognized I knew they were the reason. I made threats that if it ever happened again, things wouldn’t go so smooth for them. Haven’t got thrown in the hole since.”

  Stone was shocked at how Bruno talked about the situation as if he held no grudges about it. If it were himself, Stone would’ve been in a blind rage. Six months because of someone else’s contraband? He respected Bruno’s perspective on the situation and wished he could have the same temperament. At that moment, Stone decided he respected Bruno.

  Stone wondered how he would react if he ever got thrown in the hole. Would he go insane like the other guys? Or would he enjoy the solitude? Stone pondered the latter and decided he’d be happy to be alone for the first few days but would dissolve into insanity. He had always liked being on his own, but he didn’t think he could do it for weeks on end.

  Might be better than putting up with some of the assholes here in this camp. I thought.

  There was no doubt in his mind that the whole time he would plot ways to get revenge on the person who was the reason he was in there. But the real question was if he’d act on it. Stone wasn’t a fighter, so he didn’t see himself hurting someone. Maybe he would get someone to do it for him. Or maybe he’d ignore the situation and avoid the guy until his Prison sentence was over.

  “But honestly, the only guys who are ever safe are Store guys,” Bruno said.

  “They got nothing to worry about, and they know it.”

  There was a hint of irritation in Bruno’s voice as he pointed towards a few men.

  They sat, talking with their buddies. They seemed to be the most relaxed people in the yard.

  Stone recognized one of them as Rooster. The store guys always have their lockers untouched. They don’t even inspect the locker of these guys, they know if they go into a locker of a store man that the Camp will riot and things will end up on the news for the facility making the administrator get fired from his job.

  Miss Angie would walk through the facility and place a yellow sticky note paper on the lockers not to get touched. Storemen are valuable for the Camp, newcomers and people that have no resources or muscle are not. These are the guys they make an example of. That’s another reason the gig is so great because you’ll never get thrown in the hole. You’d have to do something extreme to get tosse
d in there because there’s always the off-chance inmates will riot.

  THE LINE

  EVERYDAY FOOD for the Camp got made in the main FCI Low Federal Prison and pushed in crates over to the Camp thru the back gates. It was a big cart with silver trays inside the crate. Rain or shine two servers had to go with the guard from the Camp to the back gates of the FCI Low and get the cart. This happened at every meal three times per day.

  7 a.m. 11 a.m. and 5 p.m. were the meal times. The inmates would line up and wait for the guard to get back with two servers pushing the carts. The servers would have about fifteen to thirty minutes to put all the food out so everyone could come thru the line and get it. The crates were heavy, and most of the older guys had to find a different job while the younger guys did the heavy lifting. It embarrassed the older guys, but no one ever said anything out of respect.

  Lots of times the servers would run out of food. Everyone would get a chuckle out of the new guys who came in expecting special treatment. They would piss and moan about the food and its quality which would result in them having no food. The looks on their faces when they realized sometimes some people didn’t get food was comical to all the other inmates.

  So, after six months’ time-served Stone had his hustle revealed. (Line Server)

  After four months working in the dish room, Stone got assigned to the line as a server after one of the previous servers went to the hole for fighting. Stone felt a hint of pity for the guy, but more for himself. It was not a position he wanted because if you ran out of food who do you think they blamed? The line servers.

  The inmates assumed that it was the line server’s fault when there was no food which was insane. But there was a hustle there if there was a surplus of food. Plus, the servers got to eat before everyone else and had their pick of the food. To people on the outside, it didn’t sound like a huge deal but having the opportunity to never miss a meal was vital in the Prison. It was already lonely enough, so starving was insufferable. Plus, Stone would never get the scraps of any meal, which was a blessing. He would never have to deal with eating the food that fell on the ground or the meals sneezed or coughed on. He also always handled his own food, so he knew it would never get tampered with.