Wild Man’s Nascar Lottery
Wild Man - My large and fearless raving partner from my hometown. He looked out for me in Arpaio’s jail after we were arrested, and is one of the main characters in Hard Time.
“So you knocked out the head of the whites and the Aryan Brotherhood put you in charge. As the new head, you probably had to fight constantly to maintain discipline and to keep your position. How long after they made you the new head was your first fight?”
“What was it over?”
“Collections for indigent inmates.”
“Can you explain that for the general public?”
“The head of the whites is in charge of helping out the white prisoners who arrive with no money. To give them hygiene products, toothpaste, stamps, paper and envelopes. To raise the money for this I go round the prisoners and have them put a stamp up for the Nascar Racing pool. There’s 43 cars. I write the numbers 1 to 43 on little pieces of paper, throw them in a bag, or one of them orange beanies they give you when it’s winter. Whoever wins gets 20 stamps.”
“Alright, so let’s get back to the fight.”
“A white guy just moved in. He was high on OxyContins, he didn’t shower and he stunk. All the white boys who could were doing the Nascar pool, but this guy tells me, ‘I don’t see why I should have to buy a number.’ I said, ‘Look, motherfucker, I’m not telling you you have to do anything, but I’d appreciate it if you’d do the white-boy thing and buy a Nascar because the stamps are going to the people who haven’t got anything.’
He said, ‘Fuck what they’re going through!’
I said, ‘Tell you what, mate, I’ve got three numbers left. When I’ve got one, I’m going to come back and see ya, and you’re going to buy a number. How’s that?’
There’s a fine line between bulldogging, and standing up for your race. I didn’t like this dude’s attitude. When I had one number left, I walked up to him. He was a big corn fed fucker too.
He said, ‘My mamma and dadda work hard for the money I get. I’m not just wasting it on fucking people I don’t know.’
He actually didn’t get past ‘don’t know.’ I hooked him with a left right in the chin. I swear to God, his feet came off the ground, and he landed on the side of a wall. He was clean out. You know what I did? I got his mate to go to his locker, get a stamp, and pay in for the Nascar. You know what? This is no fucking joke. He won the Nascar.”
“He won! How much did he win?”
“Twenty stamps. I paid him, too. He wasn’t even gonna play. I had to knock him out to play the Nascar and he won. He picked Jimmie Johnson. He was so shocked when I gave him the twenty stamps. I said, ‘I wasn’t trying to bulldog you out of shit. I was just trying to explain to you what was going on.’"
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