You Get A LIFETIME
Chapter Nine
Okay, so I’m not in Jail.
‘What?’ you ask? ‘But you were actually guilty.’ ‘How did you get out of that?’
Well the truth is, I don’t know. All I know is that I’m not going to jail. Much worse. Much, much worse.
What’s worse than Jail?
Two words.
Mental Institute. That’s right, I was deemed mentally unstable and sentenced to 3-5 years in here with counseling every 2nd day and a mental assessment in 2 years with a chance I could get out then.
You might think I got off easy, but you’re so wrong. I’m only allowed one letter a week, if I’m good. I’m not allowed visitors and the only person I get to talk to at the moment is my shrink who is, sometimes, as fucked as some of his patients, which include the depressed, the unstable, the druggies, the alcoholics and the actual retards. You’re not allowed to cook unless supervised by the guards who quite obviously once had a dream of being Hulk Hogan or Andre the Giant.
The first two weeks I was here I had a room to myself by yesterday I was told that I’m meant to be getting a room mate today, Bert something. I didn’t really learn much about him except he’s 23, two years younger than me, and is in for a drug overdose. Great. A suicidal druggie. Not my idea of a perfect roomy, but at least he’s not a serial kill… Ahh, never mind.
‘What?’ you ask? ‘But you were actually guilty.’ ‘How did you get out of that?’
Well the truth is, I don’t know. All I know is that I’m not going to jail. Much worse. Much, much worse.
What’s worse than Jail?
Two words.
Mental Institute. That’s right, I was deemed mentally unstable and sentenced to 3-5 years in here with counseling every 2nd day and a mental assessment in 2 years with a chance I could get out then.
You might think I got off easy, but you’re so wrong. I’m only allowed one letter a week, if I’m good. I’m not allowed visitors and the only person I get to talk to at the moment is my shrink who is, sometimes, as fucked as some of his patients, which include the depressed, the unstable, the druggies, the alcoholics and the actual retards. You’re not allowed to cook unless supervised by the guards who quite obviously once had a dream of being Hulk Hogan or Andre the Giant.
The first two weeks I was here I had a room to myself by yesterday I was told that I’m meant to be getting a room mate today, Bert something. I didn’t really learn much about him except he’s 23, two years younger than me, and is in for a drug overdose. Great. A suicidal druggie. Not my idea of a perfect roomy, but at least he’s not a serial kill… Ahh, never mind.
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Yes I updated.XD
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