Waste Not...Want Not
Tony Fisk was your stereotypical high school burner. He had a collection of indian ink tattoos that proudly displayed the collage of his so-called life. His most memorable tatt was the O-Z-Z-Y across the knuckles of his right hand.
I met Tony in the Walworth County jail. I know I've written about that experience before, it wasn't much of a tale...6 hours or so for an open intoxicant violation. Tony overheard my comment about craving a cigarette that I made to the friend I was in there with. He asked if I "wanted" a cigarette and countered my reply with a polite "how does it feel to want"? Laughter filled the cell at my expense.
Once meals were served that afternoon, I traded my chop suey to another inmate for three cigarettes. Fuckies.
I met Tony in the Walworth County jail. I know I've written about that experience before, it wasn't much of a tale...6 hours or so for an open intoxicant violation. Tony overheard my comment about craving a cigarette that I made to the friend I was in there with. He asked if I "wanted" a cigarette and countered my reply with a polite "how does it feel to want"? Laughter filled the cell at my expense.
Once meals were served that afternoon, I traded my chop suey to another inmate for three cigarettes. Fuckies.