Stone Sharp Vol.1

by White, Walt

  “How the hell is he supposed to find the ball if he can’t even find his dick?” The White team screamed at a Mexican coming up to bat.

  “Yeah, your wife finds it for me!”

  The Mexican gave in to the heckling as he approached the base.

  “You, try to hit the ball instead of catching it in your rolls!”

  Another White guy shouted.

  The audience’s heckling worked because the poor guy struck out. He tossed the bat against the fence, cursing then stomped away.

  The Mexican’s sent up Shorty next who wasn’t any better for hitting the ball.

  Even Stone laughed as people taunted him while he tried to swing.

  “Woodchopper at bat!”

  They all laughed in unison as he swung the bat almost straight downward.

  “Ask his mom if he has permission to play” Yelled another guy.

  “You're out!”

  The guard yelled at Shorty’s last attempt at redemption.

  With every player, in every game, something new and comical got spewed out onto the field.

  “Endangered species up to bat!”

  “Beached whale call the Coast Guard!”

  “I’ll give your Black ass a huge fried chicken if you get one hit! Or maybe we’ll put it on first base for yaw.”

  It was different for every guy and every race. On over one occasion the taunting would go too far, and two or three guys would erupt in a fight. Most of the time the guards could call the guys off because no one wanted the games to end short due to a short tussle.

  When Big Grun came up to bat, he held his head high and kept his eyes on the pitcher, ignoring all the chants behind him.

  “Don’t piss on yourself jackass!”

  “Tell your mom I said I miss those late nights I had with her!”

  “Give me some butter with those Rolls.”

  Big Grun’s mouth twisted, and he spits on the ground before raising the bat. His eyes narrowed on the pitcher who smirked at him.

  The pitcher threw a wicked curveball, and with one swift motion, Big Grun swung the bat through the air. The two contacted a loud clap, and the ball went flying.

  Big Grun took a while to make it to first base. Anyone else who hit the ball that far would have gotten a triple out of it. Just as he dived, the first basemen caught the ball and taunted Big Grun. “Who dives into first base?” He said amused.

  “Are you fucking kidding me, how is that an out in your stupid head?”

  Big Grun shouted at the guy with dirt and dust all over his face.

  “It isn’t my fault you’re slower than your mama’s molasses.” He shot back.

  That was the one trigger Big Grun needed to pounce on the man and thrust his massive fists into his face. The two men cursed and shouted at each other, but Stone couldn’t make out the words. Dust flew up into the air, shrouding them from anyone’s eyesight.

  Guards jogged to the rescue and joined the tussle, trying to tear the two off each other. The other players shouted at the guys to cut their shit out so they could continue the game. They were fighting like feral dogs.

  When the guards ripped them apart, they were still kicking and cursing at one another, blood dripping down their faces. They dragged them off the field and towards the facility.

  Once they were gone everyone cheered and whooping at the two guys headed for their doom.

  “All right, boys, back to the game.” A guard said.

  He said it as if nothing had happened, then again, the fight had been little of a shock. Fights occurred during games and even practices, it came with the sport. That’s why multiple guards got posted at every softball related activity, ready to intervene at any moment.

  The other memorable event during the game was when Rooster came to bat.

  He strutted to the base while the audience cheered him on.

  “Hit a home run, Red Devil!” They said.

  Rooster was the best player on the White team due to his extensive experience on the outside. He had been playing baseball since he was four, which gave him the advantage for softball. He wasn’t oblivious to his skills either and paraded himself around during softball season as if he were a celebrity.

  He was the only one the whole game that hit a home run. Once he got assured of his victory, he walked the bases, tipping an imaginary hat to each baseman with a stupid grin on his face. The crowd cheered, even the guys who weren’t White supported him.

  Once the game ended, the tension was unbelievable. Racial bias in the Prison skyrocketed as everyone viewed each other as competitors. Even friends were on the same team wouldn’t speak for days because one of them ‘missed the ball’ or ‘couldn’t catch.'

  Stone found it all hilarious as he wasn’t a participant in all the mudslinging. He much rather watch the heckling than be on either end of it. He found it funny how worked up everyone got over the tiniest calls. It was one reason he loved being on a team. Also, he was damn good at the game. He was grateful that he had a knack for it, as plenty of inmates were hopeless for softball. Instead, those people were background people whether it be through heckling players or being equipment guys. Stone never understood the guy who tried to play even though they lacked any skills at all, he felt embarrassed for them. He’d watch them fail on the field and face the wrath of the hecklers. He didn’t understand why anyone would put themselves through that.

  When Stone was first thrown his dirty cleats, he was shocked that the condition wasn’t far worse.

  “We get ‘em from that church that comes Wednesdays after the game.”

  A player on Stone’s team explained.

  “Only way some of these guys will even think about religion.”

  “It’s a hoot to watch these guys go after each other.” Stone said.

  “Yeah, it’s taken seriously. Some of the things these guys end up saying to each other are pretty fucked up. I’ve seen two close friends not talk for a year because of some of the shit that went down during these games.”

  “That’s ridiculous. It’s just a game.” Stone said.

  He looked up at Stone and studied his features.

  “If you think that, you best quit now. Or let none of the other guys hear what you said. They’ll kick your ass until your preaching the exact opposite.”

  Stone rolled his eyes but got intrigued by the aurora of the sport. It pulled him in so he couldn’t describe it. The venomous competitiveness of the players made him want to try his own hand and be part of a winning team. He was happy with the sense of unity and victory his team gave him throughout the season.

  IRON MAN

  NINE MONTHS’ time-served passed, and Stone kept working out and transforming. With each passing day, Stone was getting stronger and thinner. Stone became closer and closer with Rhino, a man he never saw himself connecting with. They spent their time cooking, lifting weights or sitting and playing a game of chess.

  They talked but not much, and they were both comfortable with it. Unlike with Z, Stone didn’t spill his whole past, and neither did Rhino. Most of the time they sat in silence, enjoying each other’s company. Their conversations comprised drama in the Prison or what happened at their last workout. The most Stone knew about Rhino was his shitty relationship with his daughter and his strange connection with his mother who never visited.

  “She just hates me because of what her mama’s been telling her. Not like I can defend myself from Prison, so I don’t understand what ideas she’s filling my girls mind with. She hasn’t visited me in years because of that bitch.” Rhino said.

  “That’s what I’m worried about with my daughter. I don’t want my wife to be telling her things that aren’t true about me. I want her to know the truth, but she’s too young to comprehend anything that’s happened.”

  Stone couldn’t help but notice how similar Rhino’s situation was to his own. He got terrified that his relationship with his daughter would crumble as Rhino and his daughters had.

  “I wouldn’t worr
y too much about your little girl. She’s young, and you won’t be in here for too much longer. I’m sure after a few months she’ll have forgotten about the whole ordeal.” He said.

  Stone wished he could say the same for Rhino, but Stone could tell Rhino’s relationship was past repair.

  “Thanks, I hope so.” Stone said.

  “Just don’t end up in here again. You land your ass back here again you can guarantee she isn’t going to forgive you then. You can just miss out on so much of their lives before they replace you, forget about you, and learn to get along without you.” Rhino said.

  “I don’t think children can ever forget about you. You’re still their father.” Stone said.

  Stone attempted to sound sympathetic, but his tone came out defensive.

  “Are you going to be here long enough for the games?” Rhino said.

  He asked, switching the topic and ignoring Stone’s attempt at pity.

  “I don’t even know what that is.” Stone said.

  Stone let the conversation change. He wanted to make Rhino feel better about his daughter, but he figured letting it go was the better decision. If Rhino wanted to talk about it with Stone, he would.

  “Forgot you have never been in Prison before,” Rhino said.

  “There like the Olympics… but for Prison.”

  He paused as if hearing the strangeness in his words.

  “Kind of dumb thing to call it, but that’s what it is. A mini version of it at least.”

  “The Olympics? Just another thing to gamble on, huh?” Stone said.

  “Yeah, but these guys take this shit serious. It’s kind of like softball but times it by twenty. It determines what faction is the strongest in the Camp, so I’d say it’s a big deal.”

  “How do you even organize something like that?” Stone said.

  “It’s not easy, I don’t make up the guidelines. All I know is the head guys of each faction think of events to put together into one giant competition.” Rhino said.

  “There’s got to be a flaw in that system somehow. Only three guys making up the whole thing?”

  “Each faction submits their own events., It will be events their great in. Blacks always ask for basketball, Mexicans want soccer, and Whites beg for baseball throws. That’s part of the games though, every faction has some kind of thing they’re fantastic in, but that doesn’t mean they will win the whole competition.”

  “How many games are in the whole thing?” Stone said.

  Rhino shifted his weight and pursed his lips.

  “Ten. There’s always the three top ones then the oddball stuff a joker from every faction would throw in. Like obstacle courses, carrying heavy buckets of water, crawling under picnic tables like soldiers and anything weird like that. The whole event takes about three hours to finish.”

  “Damn,” Stone said.

  He pictured some of the overweight guys in the Prison trying to wedge themselves under tables.

  “It’s funnier than you think,” Rhino said.

  He burst into a fit of laughter as if knowing what Stone was imagining.

  “Last year, this Mexican named Red got stuck under the tables. Took five guys to get his fat ass out.”

  “I wish I could’ve seen that.” Stone said.

  “Yeah, it’s great to watch.”

  Rhino explained the details of each game.

  “It’s fun to watch the drawing event where they pull out all the events that will get played out of a hat.”

  “Guess you got to choose the fittest guys in the Prison to be on your team to win shit like this.” Stone said.

  “You’d think so. Nah, every guy who’s able must take part. So, whoever is your skin color, is your teammate. Kind of sucks for those who don’t even try to work out. God knows what those guys fill their time with.” Rhino said.

  “You’re kidding. Everyone has to?” Stone said.

  Stone found it ironic that Rhino was making fun of the guys who didn’t work out when Rhino himself was far from fit. But he kept his mouth shut, deciding not to instigate anything.

  “Nope, and if you don’t get enough team members, the guards make you take a guy from a different faction. The poor man from the other faction can’t compete among the other guys. He gets hassled every practice and gets overlooked, even when he’s the reason the team won a game. The worst part is he doesn’t even get to choose if he goes on a different colored team. If he’s chosen, he must go, and his own faction will view him as a traitor and expect him to throw the game.” Rhino said.

  “Guess that would suck to be that guy. The team you’re on won't trust you, and your own faction will hate you unless they win the games.” Stone said.

  “Yeah, you don’t want to be him.”

  Rhino stood up and stretched his arms.

  “Let’s go get some food.”

  Stone cracked his neck and followed him across the track, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “So, forty guys a team. How does each faction organize all those guys?”

  “Each faction would choose the order of their members like choosing the players for a batting line up in Major Baseball. Your slowest guys go first with your strongest, fastest guys going last to make up the time they lost with the lesser men. Each faction had a timekeeper. They would draw out of a hat to determine which timekeeper went with what group. The one rule is your timekeeper can’t keep time for your own group. Also, the other members of groups not taking part would watch the opposite groups timekeeper making sure he was keeping it honest.”

  Rhino pushed open the doors to the dining hall and Stone couldn’t help but smile to himself as his pace quickened. If there was one thing more important to Rhino than boasting about all the information he knew about the Prison, it was food.

  He squeezed his way into the line and picked up where he had left off.

  “Now a lot of the guys find loopholes and ways to cheat. Winning means bragging rights for a year and a shit ton of sausages.” Rhino said.

  “How many sausages does the winning team get?” Stone said.

  “Each member taking part had to give one sausage entry fee. The winning faction getting all the sausages put up. So over one hundred. Then the winner would put on a big feast and gloat over winning to the other factions.”

  “Can’t imagine the amount of gambling going on during the games.”

  “These guys bet on everything, down to what guys would miss a throw or score a goal. That was incredible to watch the event going on. The most popular events would always be the weightlifting events and the track and field events like a relay race around the track. Sometimes they would put a weight limit on the relay race. Meaning you had to weigh a certain amount to be in the race.” He said.

  “Or they might have four people racing two fast runners and two fat slow over three hundred pounds. Watching these three hundred pound guys run around the track with the other guys hooting and hollering is priceless. Or they might put an age limit meaning someone had to be over a certain age like sixty. At times, the old guys over sixty would quit running and start walking. It is Hilarious!” Rhino said.

  “Even the guards would all come out for the event. Even if they were off work for the day they would come to see it. It’s great to watch these guys as a spectator. Everyone screams and yells at each other, and it’s a great way to release pent-up anger.”

  “Are there a lot of fights like in softball?” Stone said.

  Rhino nodded as he held up his plate and a line server slapped down a piece of meat.

  “Tons. Over the stupidest shit too. I remember one time a Black guy was running with a bucket of water, and he tripped and face planted. Right after the race, a few guys on his team beat the living shit out of him because he came in dead last. The guards who were watching had bets on the Black team and let them beat the guy bloody until he was unconscious.”

  “That’s fucked up,” Stone said.

  Stone shook his head and followed Rhino to a table.

 
“That’s just how the games go.”

  “Anyways. Each member of your faction must complete all ten events, or you got penalized for the event. They would total up the points at the end of the event, and the most points won. The determination for each event point total got decided on before the race began.”

  “They would use identifying marks or hat or colors during the race, for example, the whole group wearing t-shirts with red numbers or hats with certain things marked on them. Some guys would paint their faces like crazy NFL fans. Sometimes they would even come up with cool names for the teams like the Cowboys or the Raiders or something similar.” Rhino said.

  “If they ran out of time, then the event ran over into the next day. They never left it hanging. They always completed the entire event. The guys not taking part had to be timekeepers or rule keepers, kind of like referees in a basketball game. They even had judges for some events that required it.”

  Stone shoveled the slop into his mouth and chewed.

  “I’m not sure what I’d be good at in those.”

  “I’m good at weight lifting. You’d do good in one of the running sports. You’re always running on the track, so I’m sure they’ll have you do something for a running event. At least you know for sure you won’t be the unwanted guy on the team.” Rhino said.

  “Sounds fun.” Stone said

  HEAD INSPECTION

  OVER ONE YEAR time served had passed. Stone’s body transformation was almost complete. He had lost sixty pounds. The lean muscle he developed beneath his skin was starting to show. He was sitting in the yard talking with Rhino when a word came up he knew nothing about. A word dreaded even beyond the hole was Head Inspection. The Head Inspection was the most dreaded event of all. It placed everyone on edge. None of the inmates looked forward to having inspections; they were crap, and it would make them glad if they had it scrapped. It caused a lot of unnecessary tension among the factions.

  On the day set aside for it, the head guy for the Bureau of Prisons would visit the facility. It was a business even though the guy almost never stayed long but whatever he left in his wake lasted longer. When the Head Man arrived, he took his time because he would not get the chance to hassle them again till the following year. It could get comical although there was nothing funny about his visit. It is like the day God comes down to check the affairs of men; everyone had to appear prim and proper. Thus, it was not with excitement that the inmates accepted the news when they heard the piece of information during the count.