Let Me Introduce "Rico"*

Written on December 22, 2008

Well today is Monday, and I am going to be in the cell by myself for the better part of the day. "Rico," my roommate of sorts, was required to go to court today and will not be back until later on today. While I understand very little about my cell mate, the more time I spend with him the more I realize that I possess no real desire to know anything about him at all. It may be just the close quarters I keep with the young man, but as far as I can tell he is a detestable waste of what very well could have been a fully functioning, healthy, and prosperous member of today's working population. But upon our first lengthy conversation, I quickly realized that almost all hope of that becoming a reality is lost.

This is his fourth time in custody for the same crime! Possession of meth and being under the influence of meth seem to be the charges he doesn't vary too much from. Oh did I mention, it's the fourth time, for the same charges, this year! 2008! This will be the third Christmas, in a row, that he has spent behind bars.

I have grown somewhat sympathetic to certain people in here that are generally good people and deserve help, but Rico is not one of those people. His drug-addled mind has him believing that he is somehow a "victim" (I said that not him; I don't think he knows words that big, so I helped) to the system, and that it's "messed up" that he has to be in jail, again.

I have not even attempted to help him see where he could be going wrong and how him taking responsibility for his actions and seeking help for his drug problem may result in him getting to spend a Christmas out of jail. I don't know for sure whether he even possesses the general intelligence to grasp such a notion. And truthfully, I feel a little safer knowing that he is not out there on the same streets as my family and loved ones. Although I would rather him not be in the same cell as I am, it's a sacrifice I am willing to make for my people. And all this heartache and headache because of me writing this same little blog that I will not give up for anything.

Oh yeah! I will have you know that Rico--good ol' Rico--hasn't showered once since we got here. Nor has he brushed his teeth. And to make matters worse for me, he is on the bottom bunk. All day long, as he sleeps, his gastrointestinal eruptions can be heard with power to take fright of. And the aftermath of such eruptions, will always, without fail, rise to my level on the top bunk. And since it is such a small cell (about 8'x10') there is absolutely no way to escape my aromatic bunkee's wrath. All I can do is put my head under my covers and hold my breath, hope that it passes soon and doesn't come back soon.

And have you ever known someone who smacks while they eat? Their mouth makes a disgusting little smacking noise because they apparently never learned how to chew properly with their mouth closed? Well that's Rico my friends without fail. This is one of my most least favorite things to be around, one of my biggest pet peeves, and makes me want to cry out to God and beg that he not let another generation slip past without learning this simple etiquette.

Every meal, if he can make a smacking noise while eating it, he will. If he can make a slurping noise during its consumption, he will. Even food that, surely there could be no way that mastication could be audible, it is! His mouth made noises while he ate--ready for this--a cough drop! How?! Why?! And not quiet noises, loud noises.

Soon I will include a typical conversation between me and Rico so you will understand exactly how bad it really is. Until then, I am going to check off another day on my little calendar, and go lay down and read. Good-bye.


*Not his real name.