The Chronicles of Johnny Voi
This is my story. It's not a sob story and it's not a happy story, it's just my story. I'm such an asshole of late, it would be wrong if someone shed a tear or laughed in the slightest at my horrible life. No emotion should be felt towards me. I guess I start telling you where I am right now. I'm in my holding cell in Washington, via the Walla Walla state penitentiary. They've allowed me to scribble this shit down with crayons and a notepad because I'm "So dangerous" that pens could be "Misused". Honestly, I'm suprised i got the crayons. A crayon shank could be the deadliest weapon known to man on the inside. Why I'm here is pointless, just accept the fact that I'm here and I've had to deal with it for 13 years of my life thus far.
Maybe I should start with my parents and my upbringing, so you may understand a bit WHY I'm here. You see, Mom and Dad were obsessed with the Kennedy assassination. Not even Kennedy, just the assassination. I never knew they're real names ... just Mom or Dad Voi. They were afraid that the CIA would get to my brother or I and we'd spill all the information that we knew, which literally was nothing. When I was born, they felt it to be such an omage to call me John Fitzgerald Voi. A bit prestigious for a shit like me, but i never used my birthname, and neither did anyone else. After 5 years old I was known mostly as Johnny Voi. I used to have to get locked in closets or my room while my parents conducted their business whatever it was, until I either found a way out or they remembered I wasn't just gone, that in fact, they did lock me away. This happened daily until my brother was born.
They named him Lee Harvey Voi. He was the nice one.
I loved having a little brother because they would stop caring about me and caring more about him. I had 6 years experience of being locked away already, and and the new guy was a loose string. 5 years go by and my parents are still very much so ruling with an iron fist. Which, undoubtedly, instilled plenty of angst into me and plenty of confusion into my brother. I could literally guage where he would end up next in his emotional downfall because i had been there 6 years earlier. My parents kept locking us in different closets so we couldn't conspire or plan a way to break out, and i decided to start doing pull ups on the coat rack, which was suprisingly sturdy. It's funny to look at life as a kid then take a nice long look at life in the pen and realize almost nothing has changed for me. Not in the least.
My brother had a fit in the closet one day, I could hear him screaming and crying and trying to punch his way through the door. He snapped that day and he really never went back. He was still overly nice and overly apologetic, but he had the shortest fuse I've ever seen to date. I had grown passed that point and had moved right on to sadism. Upper body strength and a sadistic mind = a living hell for my brother. We fought everyday. How ironic. Lee Harvey and John Fitzgerald getting in fistfights. Maybe that's what our parents wanted. Maybe they engineered this a year before my birth ... maybe they had done this years before with other kids and then when the joke wore out they just locked them in a closet and moved away.
One particular day my brother and I engineered an escape from the closets. It just implied kicking the doors open when our parents left the house. We would probably be punished badly ... and we would probably be locked away for days on end, as it was their policy if we did something "really bad". The other day I was provided the luxury of seeing a movie called "Frailty". That kid had it easy. 3/4 of my life was spent locked away. We were out of the closets and eating our hearts out and we decided to go into our parents room.
All we saw was a briefcase full of heroin. I know heroin now, but then ... i didn't know shit. My brother thought it was brown sugar and gobbled a mouthful. I got pissed off at him, since this would be an unknown territory of punishment for me. Going through our secretive parents things and consuming something of theirs. This could mean a royal beating or getting locked away even more. I got really pissed at my brother. I couldn't see passed the rage insighted by what he had done. I screamed and gnashed my teeth, and punched the hell out of his face and punched the hell out of his throat and his chest and his stomach. Every inch of his body recieved a pummeling. Apparently I killed him before the heroin overdose did.
My parents found us, and the drugs. My mom took the briefcase away, and my dad kicked me profusely. The next trail of events are why i'm here. It was such a crazy whirlwind of court trials and travelling holding cell to holding cell. I was 17, and treated as an adult, which just means if you mouth of to a guard you'll be swiftly beaten. I don't regret anything more than being born into the parents I had. The gaurds are coming for me ... probably another transfer. I have to go, so i'll hide this somewhere, probably my ass. I wonder if I'll ever be able to complete this ....
Maybe I should start with my parents and my upbringing, so you may understand a bit WHY I'm here. You see, Mom and Dad were obsessed with the Kennedy assassination. Not even Kennedy, just the assassination. I never knew they're real names ... just Mom or Dad Voi. They were afraid that the CIA would get to my brother or I and we'd spill all the information that we knew, which literally was nothing. When I was born, they felt it to be such an omage to call me John Fitzgerald Voi. A bit prestigious for a shit like me, but i never used my birthname, and neither did anyone else. After 5 years old I was known mostly as Johnny Voi. I used to have to get locked in closets or my room while my parents conducted their business whatever it was, until I either found a way out or they remembered I wasn't just gone, that in fact, they did lock me away. This happened daily until my brother was born.
They named him Lee Harvey Voi. He was the nice one.
I loved having a little brother because they would stop caring about me and caring more about him. I had 6 years experience of being locked away already, and and the new guy was a loose string. 5 years go by and my parents are still very much so ruling with an iron fist. Which, undoubtedly, instilled plenty of angst into me and plenty of confusion into my brother. I could literally guage where he would end up next in his emotional downfall because i had been there 6 years earlier. My parents kept locking us in different closets so we couldn't conspire or plan a way to break out, and i decided to start doing pull ups on the coat rack, which was suprisingly sturdy. It's funny to look at life as a kid then take a nice long look at life in the pen and realize almost nothing has changed for me. Not in the least.
My brother had a fit in the closet one day, I could hear him screaming and crying and trying to punch his way through the door. He snapped that day and he really never went back. He was still overly nice and overly apologetic, but he had the shortest fuse I've ever seen to date. I had grown passed that point and had moved right on to sadism. Upper body strength and a sadistic mind = a living hell for my brother. We fought everyday. How ironic. Lee Harvey and John Fitzgerald getting in fistfights. Maybe that's what our parents wanted. Maybe they engineered this a year before my birth ... maybe they had done this years before with other kids and then when the joke wore out they just locked them in a closet and moved away.
One particular day my brother and I engineered an escape from the closets. It just implied kicking the doors open when our parents left the house. We would probably be punished badly ... and we would probably be locked away for days on end, as it was their policy if we did something "really bad". The other day I was provided the luxury of seeing a movie called "Frailty". That kid had it easy. 3/4 of my life was spent locked away. We were out of the closets and eating our hearts out and we decided to go into our parents room.
All we saw was a briefcase full of heroin. I know heroin now, but then ... i didn't know shit. My brother thought it was brown sugar and gobbled a mouthful. I got pissed off at him, since this would be an unknown territory of punishment for me. Going through our secretive parents things and consuming something of theirs. This could mean a royal beating or getting locked away even more. I got really pissed at my brother. I couldn't see passed the rage insighted by what he had done. I screamed and gnashed my teeth, and punched the hell out of his face and punched the hell out of his throat and his chest and his stomach. Every inch of his body recieved a pummeling. Apparently I killed him before the heroin overdose did.
My parents found us, and the drugs. My mom took the briefcase away, and my dad kicked me profusely. The next trail of events are why i'm here. It was such a crazy whirlwind of court trials and travelling holding cell to holding cell. I was 17, and treated as an adult, which just means if you mouth of to a guard you'll be swiftly beaten. I don't regret anything more than being born into the parents I had. The gaurds are coming for me ... probably another transfer. I have to go, so i'll hide this somewhere, probably my ass. I wonder if I'll ever be able to complete this ....