Portions have been omitted from the online version of Chapter 15 due to extreme graphic violence.
Radio Head
He was coming out of his dog-shit cop-cruiser power-nap while they dragged him into the facility; a big hollow sounding place really.
The street-cops handed him over to some prison-cops who had been expecting him. The big dumb White street-cop said, “He’s dangerous, downed four of our people, and killed two pit-bulls. Shift supervisor said to bring him here—fuck Central Booking! Make sure you put leg irons on him.”
An evil looking little Black prison-cop—what did Bro say they were called, crossing guards? No dummy. I know it begins with a C—just sneered, “Now how is he supposed to try and run away if he has leg irons on dumb-shit!”
The big White cop was like, “Oh yeah, haha—da dumb piece-a-shit is gonna run! Yeah, I get it.”
The stupid street-cop then nudged him, “Enjoy yer radio priv—e—lag—ez boy!”
Are we related to that dude?
Head’s up dummy—ouch.
Yeah, that wall is as hard as it looks.
He had never been locked up or done time or been arrested or had a government job. So he knew he would not be in the system. He also had no I.D. The lady arranging for him to have his prints taken and picture snapped and ass checked was filling out papers and kept asking him questions. He never said a word. That was not difficult for Jay Bracken.
He was miffed that they had taken his belt and laces—darn hillbilly, you are going to have to kill your cellmate with your hands.
That could get messy.
I know; I wanted a nice clean bunking experience myself; just kicking back and waiting for The Call.
He had talked to his older brother Randy a few times about being incarcerated.
Bro always said that after they looked up your ass and took your picture and finger-printed you that they would sit you down somewhere to speak with a smart cop in real clothes that knew how to write and spell stuff and ask tricky questions.
Keep your eye out for that smart well-dressed fellow.
Just relax dummy.
You are not going to make it to your cell.
They already checked your ass.
I think they are going to waylay you in this hall by the holding cells.
No, not with all of these other prisoners looking on—ouch, damn, shit…
He was cuffed between four guards with another leading off and one following. The two guards on either side of him were beating him in the head with their radios while he was cuffed. He did not have leg irons on though.
Move dummy!
Just as a radio ripped open his left ear he jumped straight up out of his shoes and landed behind the guard that had been behind him.
Wow, dummy, you can’t jump like that!
I just did hillbilly!
He was now cornered with his back to the bars. He blew out one guard’s knee with an inside oblique stomp kick—Raphael would be proud!
He then side-stepped and planted a high sidekick into the short guard’s throat, killing him immediately—Sensei Hansen would have loved that stuff!
The stocky guard then lunged forward and Jay used a front snap kick to break his jaw and drop him—there you go Sensei Jan!
