17 Oct 06
Family Visits (2)
“Why’s he kissing that post?” Auntie Lily asked.
“It’s where the smokers light up. No lighters allowed,” I said.
“He’s got both arms around the post,” Auntie Lily said. “Does he think it’s a woman?”
“Maybe it’s the only time he gets to hug something,” Dad said.
“You need to tell him,” Auntie Lily said, “he won’t get ewt [anything] out of a piece of concrete.”
“I suppose you could call it post shagging?” Dad said.
“It could be said,” I said, “that when smokers need a light, they have to shag a post.”
“At least the post can’t get away,” Mum said.
“I wonder what sex the post is?” Auntie Lily said.
“It’s probably a shemale,” Mum said.
“Fancy having it off with a post,” Auntie Lily said.
A transsexual delivered two trays of chow to the visitation porters.
“There’s Mochalicious,” I said.
“He or she or whatever you call him,” Dad said, “looks bloody funny in the headgear and the plastic gloves.”
“Chow servers have to wear them for hygiene purposes,” I said.
“She looks like a surgeon,” Auntie Lily said.
“Maybe Mochalicious is getting set to do a prostrate or rectal exam,” Dad said.
Mochalicious put the trays down, spun on his heel, swayed his hips, and waved at us.
“Good grief!” Dad said. “Did you see that?”
Sitting under the ramada, looking through the fence, we watched Xena at work tending the garden.
“Do you think we could see Xena’s wasp tattoo?” Auntie Lily said.
“No,” I said. “She’ll get into trouble if she shows you that. And they might end our visits.”
“What a shame,” Auntie Lily said. “I’d have loved to have seen the wasp.”
“According to the rumours, it’s big enough to frighten horses,” Mum said.
“Biggus Dickus?” Dad said.
“Definitely not a digi widgey,” I said.
Some Yard 4 inmates going to the Health Unit, including Frankie, walked by.
“Englandman!” Frankie shouted through the fence.
“What have you been suggesting to my son?” Mum asked.
“He left me,” Frankie said and pouted.
"Oh! Do you miss him?" Mum said. “You’ll have to ask my permission for this gay marriage thing.”
“Mum! I’ll dee-cide who I marry and who I won’t marry, and it won’t be no bloody man.”
“He’s got it all wrong,” Frankie said. “I’ll dee-cide. I’m the man in this relationship. Did you get my message, Englandman?”
“Yeah, and I was thinking of Shakira, not you.”
In the distance, a long line of inmates were walking across the rec field back to Yard 1, carrying laundry bags full of commissary over their shoulders.
“They look like orange Santas,” Dad said. "What are they doing?"
“They’re coming back from the store with this week’s purchases.”
“It’s an amazing sight,” Mum said.
“The yard will come alive when they get back,” I said. “People will be running around to each others cells with store items, paying off debts, pooling food and having cookouts, making tamales, enchiladas, and burritos. And the guards will be trying to stop people from taking store to other cells to pay off debts.”
“Is that the highlight of the week getting store then?” Auntie Lily asked.
“It probably is,” I said. “That and mail call.”
Back inside, I asked Auntie Lily what she would have done if she had seen Xena’s wasp.
“I’d have a good look,” Auntie Lily said. “And then I’d tell her to put it away because me dad always used to say, 'If you see a flasher you should feel sorry for him, and go and cover it up.'”
Email comments to firstname.lastname@example.org or post them below
Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood