Read Fish: A Memoir of a Boy in Man's Prison for Free Online

races. Since the camp supervised most of the activities, over time, we got to know the games pretty well. Once, after cousin Rusty won several prizes in a row, including the dance contest, someone wanted to know whose little boy he was, and his cover was blown. We didn't get into too much trouble, though, since it was Uncle Ronnie's idea in the first place. That night, we heard our parents laughing about it.
When Dad's grandma ran out of money, she was forced to move in with Grandpa. Grandpa had rented her house to a hillbilly who stopped taking care of the place, and when Grandpa went to talk him-the man threatened Grandpa with a shotgun. When Dad and Uncle Ronnie found out about it, they went there at night and moved the outhouse back a few feet. They covered the hole with a piece of cardboard and kicked dirt on top of it to make it look like the ground. Then they started a fire behind it and tossed a couple stones at the house to get the man's attention. When the man saw the fire, he ran out and fell into the hole. Dad and Ronnie and a couple of cousins then pissed on the man, telling him that if he didn't move out, they'd kill him next time. I didn't know if they were serious, but Uncle Ronnie said the tenant moved out that very week.

We laughed as much our parents did when Uncle Ronnie repeated that story, but soon they chased us away. We were forced to sit around our own fires and think up our own capers. Sometimes, we laughed so hard at the idea that pulling off the prank wasn't as much fun. We loved it when we could make each other laugh, because in that moment, it meant someone was paying attention. For that fleeting instant, we knew we were loved.

     

7
    Early Induction to an Inverted World
I was given a clean set of underwear, a pair of gray socks, dark green pants with a worn-out waistband, and a pullover shirt that had Wayne County Jail stenciled on back. I got through showering without incident-I didn't know how I thought I'd get an erection when I was so frightened-but then the size of my pants was about three sizes too big, which I wouldn't know until after I was told to walk into the next bullpen buck naked to put them on. When I entered the cell, the other inmates were already dressed and sitting on benches that ran along the sidewalls. I took an empty space on the left and got dressed quickly.
A parade of naked men followed me, each entering the bullpen with bedroll and clothing in hand-their private parts pivoting from side to side. By the time the cell was full, there were two or three dozen of us. Most of them were black, well muscled, in their twenties to early thirties. I felt smaller and skinnier, and paler than ever.
I tried not to be too obvious, but I couldn't help sneaking a look. To my young eyes, everyone's dick seemed enormous. These were grown men, and I couldn't imagine what they'd look like when sporting a boner. I had run out of nails to chew, and my right leg bounced nervously as I tried to distract my attention.
I thought about music and measure and the melody of a metronome. How calming its cadence could be. I thought about the black and white of a piano keyboard, and how I'd always wanted to play. For the first time, I got a glimpse of what it must have been like for a black man, who suddenly found himself in an all-white neighborhood. I thought about old Mayor Hubbard and how it was best not to mention where I was from.

There were three whites in the holding cell, not counting me, and over twenty or thirty blacks. The other whites were older than me, in their early twenties, and one of them looked like a biker. He was big and burly, with curly brown hair and a scraggly beard. He asked for a cigarette, and when I gave him one, he didn't even bother to say thanks. His manner was cold, and his eyes were mean, but when he stepped back from the bars and almost tripped over a black guy, he suddenly looked a lot less threatening.
"Hey! Watch where you're goin', you big ass redneck."
"Hey,