Prisoner C0C5UK3R 69

Kenny laughed nervously and shifted uneasily on the hard wooden bench. The heavily jowlled, hook nosed, thickset balding man who had just spoken, causing Kenny’s reactionary nervous laugh gave him a black look.

“What’so funny about being sent back here for six months on remand?” he growled, “young prick,” he added and leaned lecherously towards Kenny, “mind you I wouldn’t mind six months locked up with you. I’d soon make you sing in Sing Sing. You look like you’d make a good flute player,” and he deep belly laughed at his black humour. The other’s cramped in the small holding cell laughed with him. So too did Kenny until faltering he looked round the cell at his companions. He was not sure of them and felt himself under scrutiny as they soul searched him back. A very uncomfortable shudder made it’s way down his back and for some reason he felt his balls retract inside his groin and a bead of sweat, dribbled into his arse crack. He shifted even more uncomfortably.
“What’yre in for?” asked the thin man sitting next to him, smiling thinly through a scratch of a mouth.

Kenny gulped, he’d been warned about this. “Nothing much,” he replied trying to keep low key and failing with his voice by about a half quavering octave. He could hear the social workers advice now.

“Kenny, “ I’m so sorry it’s turned out this way,” he smiled hopefully at the despondent youth that sat before him. He had entered the cell with his solicitor who has stood stiffly unable to make eye contact.

“You could go down,” his solicitor had said, “but I expect a suspended six month sentence with a need for Social Rehabilitation. Possibly Community Service, you may even get off,” and laughed grimly. Since Kenny had taken his advice and already pleaded ‘guilty’ there was little hope of that and now here he sat, shaken to the core at the year’s sentence he had been handed. Not for the first time he cursed his so-called mates who had strung him along about the job.
“All you have to do Kenny, my old mucker, is stand at the corner and whistle if anyone comes along. We’ll do the hard bit. The old guy’s ancient anyway and will fold immediately, he’s got a fortune tucked away in that lock up, we’ll be rich,” his special mate Sputs had said holding with one bear arm by the shoulders and crushing him gently.

Who’s have thought the old guy was going to fight back, not only that he pressed some sort of alarm and managed to wrestle the knife Sputs had threatened him with away and began to run for it. Kenny after hearing the alarm had run back, only to charge right into the old guy who had gone flying and stupidly he’d picked up the knife. Lucky for him the police running down the street had seen him running into the old man and had worked out that despite Sputs' denials and the old man’s vagueness after being knocked senseless when he had cannoned into Kenny, as to whose knife it was. The old guy knew one of them had had a knife but could not remember which one. So the police had backed him up but the judge had decided it was time to make an example and Kenny was it.
Mr Masters the social worker who had worked closely with him and his solicitor rubbed the boy’s trembling back reassuringly. “Don’t worry Kenny. It will be over very quickly, with good behaviour you will only have to do nine months anyway and I am sure that a good boy like you will have no problem. My best advice is not to let anyone know what you are in prison for. Other not so nice people may use it against you, hurting a poor defenceless old man.”
At this Kenny looked up concerned, “but I didn’t..” he began to say.

“Yes, yes,” I know,” reassured Mr Masters, “but inside prison people will use anything they can against you. A nice young lad like you could so easily find yourself in all sorts of trouble. In fact,” his voice sunk to a conspirational whisper, “I think it might be a good idea if you opted to be kept separate from the other prisoners and asked for special treatment under ’Rule 43’.”

Kenny could see his solicitor nodding in agreement, “but won’t that put me in with those child molesters and the like?” he asked concernedly.
“But Kenny, “ Me Masters patted him gently on the back, “they’re not going to go after a lad like you. You know where they are coming from. You might be lucky and get banged up with,” he sought for words to help the boy, “ a policeman, or an accountant whose down on his luck, maybe even some poor soul who was not able to pay a fine.”

“Oh,” said a slightly brightened Kenny. “I see what you mean.”
‘Poor sod’, thought Mr Masters, ’shame it went the way it did. Bloody typical of that bastard Jenkins to put the lad away and I had such plans for him. Still I’ll have a word with some friends and make sure he gets looked after and gets some proper training. I am sure I will be able to put him to good use when he gets out,’ again he stroked the depressed boys shoulders and caressed his hair, ‘well at least when I get him back he’ll be trained, pity really as I wanted a hand in that myself’ and he chuckled darkly inside.

So Kenny after pleading ‘Rule 43’ found himself locked away in the small holding cell with the other Rule 43’s; they would be processed once the normal prisoners had gone to their fate. Again he surveyed his companions and the sense of dread and foreboding deepened along his spine. In the distance he could hear noises, people moving, keys clanking, voices now loud now quiet.
It was then with some relief that the door opened and a cheery voice shouted, “ Right you wankers, out you come.”
The inhabitants of the cell slowly exited.

The prison officer appeared to know several of the gathering and they were divided into those who were going to be on remand who were duly split from the main group. Kenny was not unhappy to see the back of the hook nosed man or ‘the Bish’ as some had called him. They followed the officer to a brightly-lit room with a counter. On the counter were a number of cardboard boxes.

“Right lads,” smiled the cheery officer, “now strip please. All your personal effects are to go into one of those boxes and once you are cleared by my colleagues, we will take you to get your uniform and to see the doctor.”

Kenny watched aghast as the others did as they were told. Slowly he followed suit, surely they did not have to take off.., ‘Oh my god,’ he thought as the first two ‘old lags’ as the officer had called them did exactly that. Naked they were taken to the counter and a form was filled in with their details. Kenny could not believe that they could stand there naked as the day they were born. The ‘old lags’ however appeared unconcerned and soon disappeared into the next room.
“Come along you tossers’,” the cheery officer boomed, “we can get you inside in time for a bit of tea if you hurry it.”

Kenny suddenly realised he had not eaten since breakfast and as it was now seven o clock, he found he was starving and the thought of food appealed to him. Like the others he speeded up and watched his personality drop item by item into a cardboard box.

“Right Prisoner, C0C5UK3R 69,” the officer spoke sharply at him and added, “First time son?” Kenny nodded, “Well take it from me son you’re going to find it blood hard if you can’t remember your number, SO BLOODY WELL LEARN IT NOW AND GET A FUCKING MOVE ON, the man’s voice rose to a square-bashing sergeant majors parade bellow. Kenny looked at the officer who pointed to the card he had handed Kenny. In the top right hand corner was the number C0C5UK3R 69, he began to memorise it.

The other’s taking their cue grabbed their cards and followed the naked boy to the next room. It looked exactly the same as before except this time there were piles of clothes on the counter.

“Right lads,” Mr Cheerful sounded out, “walk up to the counter, hand over your cards, in return you will get, one pants, one vest, one trousers, two pairs of socks, 2 shirts, one jumper, one coat and when asked ‘SIZE’ you will state your shoe size and then your card will be handed back to you with those items ticked on. Check you have everything and then I want you to carry them to that bench over there and wait until your number is called for the doctor. Is that clear, say Yes Mr Osbourne in reply. IS THAT CLEAR?”

“Yes Mr Osbourne,” was the half-hearted reply.
Kenny sat dispirited. The man next to him said, “you can put on your shoes you know, but not your socks that’s in case the doc want to look at your feet.”
Kenny noticed that the others were doing this.

“What happens next?” he whispered to the man, A couple of other men looked at him, like Kenny they were First Timers.
“You see the doc, you go out the other door and in the corridor you dress and you wait for the rest of us. Then we get marched off to the holding wing, where we will get a bed for the night and some food and then in the morning after we’ve had a wash and some breakfast, we get processed and taken to A wing to be relocated.” The man explained briefly.

“Why A Wing?” asked one of the others.
“A stands for Arseholes, which is what we are if we are on Rule 43, we’re all nonce’s mate,” the man replied matter of factly, “ lover of girls, boys, both, rapists, muggers,” he added, “and for some reason accountants.”

They smiled at this, except for one older man who looked distinctly uncomfortable at this gibe. Kenny watched the others go in one by one until he was the only one left in the cold windy corridor. He had worked out how long it would take by mentally timing the others and was busy counting when a different prison officer came past.