Date: Sat, 31 May 2003 09:27:09 EDT
From: ErastesTouch@aol.com
Subject: Point of View, chapter 15

Legal Notice:
The following story may contain descriptions of graphic sexual acts.  These
acts may be between boys or between a man and a boy.  The story is a work
of fiction and has no basis in reality. 

The author, or his designee, retains copyright to this story.  There may be
no reproducing or distribution of this story without expressed written
consent.

I wish to extend my thank you to Ed for his editorial assistance with this
chapter.

                   *    *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Point of View - by Erastes                        Copyright 2003 by Erastes
Chapter 15 - The confinement.                     February 2003

The following morning started off as we were told it would.  At 6:00 the
guards came along shouting for us to wake up, and shortly thereafter
another guard came through pushing a cart with a collection of disposable
razors on it, asking if we wanted to shave.  Those who had shaved before
had a name taped to their razor, but the rest of us were assigned a new
one, upon request.  I asked for a razor, and soon had my name attached to a
one straight out of its package, and I took it into my cell to shave, so I
could use the stainless steel mirror on the wall.  The mirror did not give
a very good reflection, and made the chore of shaving difficult, but I
managed to do a passable job.  A half-hour later, the guard returned to
collect the razors, making sure he rounded up the same number of items he
had handed out earlier.

Around 8:00 breakfast was delivered.  This was my first view of how every
morning would begin, now that I was stuck in this hole.  First, you were
given one of those individual boxes of cereal, but you had no choice as to
which variety was on your tray.  You also received a scoop of scrambled
eggs and a couple of cold pieces of dry toast, to round out this disaster.
There was also the standard carton of milk on the tray for you to use with
your cereal, and you also received a carton of juice as well.  Now having
seen a sample of each meal I would be getting, I could see that I would
most likely be losing some weight during my stay here.

After breakfast a guard came by to tell me my lawyer was here to see me,
and I was somewhat surprised.  I didn't expect to see Bruno again for a
while, unless he had discovered some new information about my situation.
However, the real surprise came when I walked into the room.  It wasn't
Bruno who came to see me, but Jack Coughlin.  "Jack, I never expected to
see you here," I told him.

"Well, I'm here on business."  I looked confused.  "I called your publisher
and discussed your current situation with them, and they have no problem
continuing to publish your stories.  I brought you a stack of legal pads
and a few pens, so you can get to work.  The guards are inspecting them
now, to make sure I'm not trying to smuggle contraband in with them, and
they will bring them to you later.  I want you to continue to write your
stories in longhand, and I'll have my secretary type them up on the
computer in her free time.  I will pay her an appropriate hourly wage for
doing this, out of your royalties.  The rest of the money I will place in
your accounts and use them to pay your bills.  I should be able to keep
everything running smoothly until you are released.  How does that sound to
you?"  He smiled at me.

"It sounds absolutely terrific," I told him.  "You are a God-send.  I never
counted on you going through all this trouble for me."

"And why not?  When you write, you make money for all of us, so I'm going
to keep you writing.  It just makes good economic sense for me."  Even
though I knew there was more to this than he was willing to admit, I
appreciated his efforts and made no further comments.  However, I was
immensely glad he was on my side.  Maybe now I could get motivated and do
some work.

"I'll come back once a week to pick up what you've written," he continued,
breaking me free from my thoughts. "If you need anything from me, such as
background material or some research, then tell the guards you need to call
your lawyer, so you advise me as to what you need."  I thanked him again.

Before I went back to my cell, I was given the bag with my additional
supplies in them.  I clung to them like a breath of fresh air, as I made my
way back to my cellblock.  When I got there, I took those things directly
to my cell.  I rummaged through the bag and pulled out one of the yellow
legal pads, and I sat down and began to write.  I knew I couldn't finish up
the story I was working on before I was arrested, because I didn't have my
notes or copies of the previous chapters, so I sat down and began to work
out the concept for a new story.  I would finish the other one after I was
released.

I quickly decided to write this story about a teenager who gets involved
with a gang, gets caught up in their macho world of crime, drugs, and sex,
and ends up getting busted.  I figured I could use my current experience to
give me the background information I would need to make the incarceration
sections believable.  Now I began to write an initial outline for the
story, describing what I wanted to happen in each chapter.  That way I'd
know, in advance, what things I might need Jack, or his secretary, to do
for me.  I was getting psyched now.

I slaved away until lunch, trying to get as much done as possible, but I
did take a break to eat.  Today lunch consisted of a hot dog, more potato
chips, some pickles, a scoop of pork & beans, and a couple of cookies -
another wonderful meal.  Damn, this was worse than the school lunches I
remembered as a kid.  To get my mind off the disappointing lunch fare, I
went back to work, beginning to flesh out the ideas for some of the
chapters.  I worked only a short time before rec hour was announced, but
Darren and I decided not to join in the fun this time.  Fred told us we
could use his cards while he was gone, so I played some double-solitaire
with Darren, to make him feel better.  We did that until everyone returned,
and as soon as the guards disappeared from sight, I started to hear
derogatory comments being shouted from some of the other cellblocks, about
me being a pussy for not going out to rec.  It seems I must have spoiled
some of their recreational plans, like beating me up for the exercise.

I was able to tune out their abuse, but I saw it was starting to get to
Darren, when they included him in their abusive treatment.  They were
asking him if he stayed behind so I could have his behind in private, but
not exactly in those terms.  They were making kissing noises, grunting
sounds like someone in the throes of a sexual climax, and then they began
to groan and moan.  Obviously, they had now grouped us as a couple, in
their extremely tiny minds, and I knew this meant we were going to have to
be even more careful about being singled out, as the possibilities seemed
worse than we first suspected.

A short time later it was announced that in about twenty minutes our
cellblock would be let out to use the shower, if we so desired.  Seeing I
was used to showering daily, this was more than just a luxury for me, it
was an absolute necessity, as I understood we were only going to be given a
chance to shower three times a week.  The guard had handed five towels in
to us, and we each grabbed one and headed to our cells.  We stripped down,
wrapped our towels around our bodies, and waited in line until we were
guided to the shower area.  It was just a large gym-type shower, with six
showerheads, and Darren and I went to the far side to shower, after leaving
our towels in the outer area.  Fred eventually joined us, but not without
some noticeable trepidation.  However, I guess he ended up deciding it was
safer showering next to us than the other two.

There were liquid soap dispensers built into the wall, below the
showerhead, that way there was no bar of soap to pass around, and none to
drop, if you catch my drift.  The soap would also have to double as
shampoo, as there was no shampoo available, from what I could tell.  I
quickly adjusted the temperature of the water, took a nice healthy squirt
of soap, and I began to lather up my body.  I tried hard not to take notice
of anyone else, but it was kind of hard not to take advantage of Darren
standing next to me, and he had a pretty nice body.  He was fairly
hairless, except for his pubes and his legs, and he looked to be in pretty
good shape.  He had a nice dick, which swung about as he moved, and a nice
pair of low hanging balls.  I saw all of this out of the corner of my eye,
as I didn't dare to turn directly toward him to inspect his package.  No
one said a word while we were in there, and when we were done, we dried
off, wrapped our towels around us, and then we were led back to our
cellblock.

Once I was back in my cell, I put on some clean underwear, and then the
same orange jumpsuit, because those were only swapped out once a week.  At
least it felt good to be clean and have on clean underwear, even if the
main garment wasn't quite as fresh.  Once that process was over, I sat down
to write some more, but only until Darren showed up at my cell door again.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"You may," I responded.  "What's on your mind?"

"I noticed that you didn't get hard when we were soaping up next to each
other," he informed me, also letting me know he was checking me out too.
"I'm glad, because I thought you might get aroused in there."

"Darren, didn't I tell you that wouldn't be a problem and you didn't have
to worry about that?  I only do things with willing partners.  I'm not the
rapist everyone in here is trying to make me out to be."

"I know.  I just wanted to let you know I appreciated that.  I was a little
nervous when we went in, but it didn't take long for me to get over that.
I guess I was more worried that one of those other two guys might try
something."

"I don't think that will happen, as long as Fred, you, and I stick
together."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

Next he asked me if I wanted to come out and join him and Fred in a game of
cards.  I started to say 'no', but I could tell he needed me to do this for
him.  I told him I'd play for an hour or so, but then I wanted to get back
to work.  I now realized I was going to have more trouble finding time to
write than I had first imagined.  Unfortunately, Darren was going to need
some of my time too.  I went out with him, and soon the three of us were
going hot and heavy in a game of pitch.

While we were playing, another guard came around and dropped off lists of
what they sold in the inmate store, and he apologized that he didn't get
these to us sooner.  I looked the list over, noting the things I wanted to
get.  I was going to buy a pair of shower thongs, a plastic cup to keep on
the sink in my cell, a couple of packages of the premixed Kool-Aid, a
package of plastic spoons, a couple of bags of chocolate chip cookies, a
deck of regular playing cards, a deck of UNO cards, and a magic marker, so
I could mark my underwear before I sent it to the laundry.

In addition to the items I was planning to purchase, they also offered
frozen pizzas, which the guards would microwave for you before delivering,
plastic bottles of soda, chips, Doritos, cheese twists, other types of
cookies, pens, writing pads, envelopes, postage stamps, selected games, and
deodorant.  It was quite a general store.  I guess it not only paid for
itself, but it also added some money to a general fund, which was used to
buy movies, things for the rec room, and other items for the inmates' use
and enjoyment.  I noticed Darren wasn't ordering anything, so I asked him
why.

"I've only got a couple bucks in my account, so I'd better save that for
stamp money, in case I need to mail letters out later."  I nodded my
understanding, but then I made some changes to my order form.  Now I listed
two pairs of shower thongs and two cups, plus I upped the amount of cookies
and Kool-Aid I had ordered.  I didn't tell him at the time, figuring I'd
surprise him after they were delivered.  I'd keep the cookies and Kool-Aid
in my cell, but tell him he can help himself any time he wanted, to avoid
problems with the pair at the other end of the cellblock.  I figured it
would be all right for him to keep the shower thongs and cup in his own
cell.

Soon the guard collected our orders and told us he'd be back with our items
later that evening.  We had gone back to playing cards by this time, and I
noticed Darren was looking a bit depressed since the guard had picked up
our orders.  I hoped my little surprise would perk him up when it arrived,
but I knew he'd have to suffer through his self-pity until then.  Shortly
after that, we all began to get bored with the card game, so we all decided
to quit for now.  I went back to work on my story, while Darren went back
to his cell to lie down, and that's how we remained, until our dinner trays
were delivered.

Tonight's fare was a little better than the previous meals we had received,
or at least more filling.  This time we had meatloaf, mashed potatoes, a
tossed salad with Italian dressing, and a scoop of pudding.  I heard a
little grumbling, from the dumbbell duo, but the rest of us were quite
pleased with tonight's selection.  After we finished cleaning off our
trays, there was some time before everything was collected again, so I went
back to my writing.

I could see that Darren was still moping around, feeling bad that he
couldn't get any of the goodies on the list from the store, but I let him
continue to stew, not wishing to spoil my surprise.  This continued until
our coffee was delivered, with cream and sugar already added, and while we
were enjoying that, the guard returned with our orders.  Each person's
purchases had been placed in a paper bag, with his name clearly written on
the outside, and we were called over and handed our things.  I took my bag
directly to my cell, wanting to see if Darren would show up to see what I
had purchased.  He didn't disappoint me.

"What'd you get?" he wanted to know.

"Oh, only a few things to make life more bearable," I told him, not
glancing up to see his expression.  By this time I had taken everything out
of the bag and placed it on my cot.  He was looking my choices over, and
now I glanced over to see a puzzled expression on his face.

"Why'd you get two cups and two pair of shower thongs?" he asked me.

"So I could give you one of each," I answered, picking up a cup and a pair
of thongs, so I could hand them to him.  A shocked look came over his face.

"You didn't need to do that, man."  He almost sounded apologetic, but I
could tell he was very moved and pleased.

"Hey, I did it because we're friends, and you can come in here and get
Kool-Aid or cookies any time you wish.  Okay?"  A small grin crept across
his face.

"Thanks, man.  Damn, I knew I was right about you."  He slapped me on the
back in appreciation, and then he put his arm across my shoulder and gave
me a sort of semi-hug.  I think it was merely an impulsive gesture on his
part, and he didn't realize what he was doing, but he did remove his arm
abruptly after a few seconds.  I casually used this opportunity to walk
over to my sink to rinse my cup out, and he did the same.  Soon we were
each mixing up a cup of Kool-Aid.  Once that was finished, we each took a
couple of cookies and sat down to enjoy our treat.

Darren thanked me several times for my kindness, and we enjoyed our snack
immensely.  Once we had downed these goodies, he rinsed his cup out, and
then proudly carried that and his shower thongs to his own cell.  The
bullies from the other end of the cellblock spotted this immediately.

"Did your lover buy you a present?" one of the dumbbell duo asked him.

"No, but my friend did," Darren replied, not letting the bastard get under
his skin.  Then he walked into his cell and put his things away.

Lights out came at precisely 11:00 again, but as I reflected over the past
twenty-four hours, I realized I had made significant headway.  Jack had
made it possible for me to make a living while I was in here, I had made
one friend and had another who would tolerate me, and I learned I could
survive by spending my whole day in the confines of our cellblock.  I
didn't need the rec hour or any of the other inmates to protect me.  I
would survive in here by playing the hand I was dealt.  I went to bed
feeling confident I could make the best out of a bad situation.

My euphoria was soon dampened a bit when the nightly catcalls began anew.
Their hostility toward me was fueled even more by the dumbbell duo, when
they informed the others I had purchased some 'gifts' for Darren.  Now the
attention shifted from me to him, but my confidence was building that
Darren could handle this abuse.  Once again he didn't crack under pressure,
and he kept quiet and maintained his composure, letting the idiots shout
themselves hoarse.  What a fitting resolution.

The next few days went according to schedule, at least as far as the jail
staff was concerned.  If it weren't for my being able to write, and the
distraction that afforded me, I would most likely have found myself bored
to tears.  There wasn't much to do here that would occupy your mind, but I
guess those with less intellectual capacity could be more easily soothed
and entertained by the television shows they allowed us to watch, the games
we had to play, or the hour of rec time we were allowed to participate in.
For me, that was just mind numbing monotony.

Darren also found a new way to help pass the time.  He mentioned one day
that he had some artistic abilities and liked to draw, so I gave him one of
my legal pads to sketch on.  I figured this would allow him a chance to
hone his skills and relieve his boredom, thus in effect killing two birds
with one stone.  For the time being the lines on the legal pad might prove
to be a distraction and a hindrance, but the next time they took orders for
the store, I would buy him a sketchpad and a set of colored pencils to use
instead.  I had noticed those items on the store list earlier, though they
hadn't seemed to be items I might be interested in at the time.  Now I
would purchase these items for him, to help him occupy his time while I was
writing.

After I gave him these items, he would walk down to my cell on a daily
basis and sit on my bunk to draw, while I sat at my desk and focused on my
writing.  I think he felt safer being in with me, knowing the others would
be less likely to try anything while we were together.  We made sure not to
leave Fred completely out of our activities, as we'd take breaks to go out
and play pitch, hearts, or UNO with him.  He spent some of his remaining
time playing solitaire, reading a bit, or watching TV from a safe distance,
as even he didn't feel comfortable getting too close to the other two.

I was quite impressed when Darren showed me a few of the sketches he had
done.  One was a landscape, a wonderful scene of bucolic splendor.  He said
it was a picture of his grandfather's farm, a place he loved to visit when
he was little, and I'm sure this drawing was an idealistic representation
of what he remembered from his childhood.  To me it was a touching and
sensitive depiction of a very special place in a young man's life.  I
praised him for his effort and told him to keep it safely tucked away, so
he could have it framed after he got out.

Another sketch he did was of the view from his cell.  This was done
completely in black and white, and it gave a stark view of what it was like
to be caged up like this.  The picture even included some of the rec yard,
as seen through the double doors leading out to it, but he didn't include
any of the inmates in this drawing.  I wasn't sure if this was because he
couldn't do lifelike forms, or he couldn't think of anyone he wanted to
include in his artwork.  It was still quite well done, especially if you
consider it was completed in such a short span of time.

The final drawing he showed me was a portrait.  He did a very nice job on
it, but I think he could have picked a better subject.  He had used me as
the unwitting model, and he was anxious to learn what I thought of his
effort.  I told him he had made a poor choice of subjects, but he had done
well with what he had to work with.  He scoffed at my criticism about his
choice, and then he gave the drawing to me, in appreciation for what I had
done for him.  I thanked him, told him I'd cherish his drawing always, and
advised him that I'd have it put in a suitable frame when I got out.  He
smiled, and I think that made him feel as if he had paid me back, in part,
for my generosity to him.  He was happy, I was impressed, and we were now
on more of an even basis, as far as the gift giving was concerned.

The days seemed to pass quite quickly from that point on, as we both kept
fairly busy.  I was working very hard on my story, and Darren was drawing
any and every thing he could think of.  The next time we were allowed to
buy from the inmate store, I purchased two more sketchpads for him, and I
can't begin to tell you how thrilled he was.  It was almost as wonderful to
watch the glow on his face when I handed those to him, as when I watched
Jared's face light up when I gave him the puppy for his birthday.

Darren began to fill me in about some of the other aspects of his life now,
and he told me about his family and what it was like for him where he grew
up.  He was not from this area, and only came here because of a nearby
college he planned to attend.  He did go to it for a while, though he
eventually dropped out, but he decided to stick around and hang with his
buddies, rather than return home.  That's what actually got him into
trouble, because he was with those same friends the night he was drinking
and ended up smashing the bouncer with a beer bottle.  However, they soon
turned out to be fair-weather friends, as they seemed to abandon him after
he got into trouble.  He hadn't seen or heard from any of them since he'd
been arrested, although he had sent them a couple of letters.  He had also
sent and received letters from his parents, so it wasn't an issue of
jailhouse mail.

After that, he began to tell me about his parents, and I soon learned they
had more than their share of financial difficulties.  Due to that fact,
they couldn't afford to come and see him, which left him virtually isolated
now.  He also told me about some of the old girlfriends he'd had, though he
had no one he was particularly close to at the present, but I could tell
from the things he was saying that he was as straight as an arrow.  In some
ways he was a bit immature, or even naive about worldly matters, but he
seemed to be a nice enough kid.  The only reason he was in here in the
first place, was that he couldn't seem to handle his booze.  He let it
impair his judgment and get him into the mess he was paying for now.

I wasn't sure if Darren was looking at me as a friend or a father figure at
this point, or possibly neither.  Maybe he had only latched on to me
because I was available and appeared to be harmless at the time, but I
think even if that were the case in the beginning, maybe something more was
developing as we spent more and more time together.  He didn't seem to let
the others change his opinion of me, and he was very nicely handling the
harassing barbs they shot at him, because he was starting to feel that most
of the inmates who harassed us were all bark and no bite.  I tried to warn
him not to feel too secure in this viewpoint, as it would only take one of
these macho scum to prove him wrong.

In addition to the differences taking place in the way we perceived things
here, other changes were taking place too.  Believe it or not, I was even
offered the chance to become a trusty, after one of the other trusties
completed his sentence.  I didn't even have to think about it, and I turned
them down immediately, as I wanted as little contact with the rest of the
inmate population as possible.  Taking that position would require me to go
to the other cellblocks to deliver meals, pick up or drop off laundry, or
to sweep the common areas.  After the show of hospitality I received on my
first day at rec, I wasn't going to place myself in a position where some
of these goons could get close enough to me to do me harm.  No thank you.
I'll spend my free time writing and earning money.

After I refused their generous offer, those in charge asked Darren if he
wanted to be a trusty.  He told them he'd have to think about it, and then
he came to see me.  "Do you think I should do it?" he wanted to know.

"Darren, I'm not sure I can advise you as to what to do.  It would give you
an opportunity to get out of our little cellblock and move about, if you
don't mind doing the job they assign you."

"The work ain't that tough," he informed me.

"I never suggested it was, but it will take up a good share of your day and
limit the amount of time you'll be able to draw."

"Yeah, I never thought of that."  He looked as if he were considering his
options.  When he looked back at me, I posed another consideration to him.

"Darren, what is your biggest concern in here?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, not fully understanding the purpose of my
question.

"What's the thing that scares or concerns you the most about being in
jail?"  Now a spark of understanding flashed across his face.

"You mean my being worried that some guy will try to butt-fuck me?"  Now he
looked at me, to see how I responded to his question.

"Yes, I think that would be it," I confirmed

"What's that got to do with anything?"  He still wasn't getting my drift.

"Well, if you were a trusty you'd come into contact with all the inmates,
not just the ones in this cellblock.  I just wanted you to be aware of
that, before you took the position."

"Oh, so you think that if I'm a trusty some guy in one of the other
cellblocks might try to do that to me?"  He didn't look as if he totally
agreed with my implication.

"It's something you have to consider.  Sometimes the trusties go into
cellblocks without a guard being there, such as when they pick up or
deliver laundry, or when they take the evening coffee around.  Doing that
could expose you to the possibility that another inmate might try to take
advantage of that situation.  I'm not saying it would happen, just that it
would be possible."

"I see what you mean.  So you don't think I should do it?"

"That's not my decision, and you'll have to make that choice for yourself.
All I'm doing is pointing out things you might want to consider."

"Bob, won't you help me?  I'd like to do it, but I'm kind of scared about
it now, especially since you've pointed these things out to me."

"Darren, you'll have to weigh your concerns and see if you think they are
greater than the advantages.  If they are, don't take the position.  If
they aren't, then give it a try.  Maybe you'd enjoy being a trusty."

"Bob, what would you do if you were me?"

"Darren, that's just it.  I'm not you, and I made my own decision."

"Please, Bob.  Just tell me what YOU think I should do."  I thought about
this a few seconds before I responded.

"Okay, if I were you, I wouldn't take the job.  I wouldn't want to be
around some of those guys who have been yelling obscenities at us.  I know
it's not as bad as when we first arrived, but it doesn't mean they've
changed their opinions about us.  I just don't believe they were getting
enough satisfaction from doing it to make it worth it for them to continue.
That was probably due to the fact we didn't give them the types of
reactions they wanted, so they soon tired of the game.  However, if they
were able to see you face to face, their abuse might just begin all over,
except with more intensity this time."

"Okay, I see your point.  I'll tell them I'm not interested then."

"Only if that's YOUR choice.  Don't let me talk you out of doing something
you want to do."

"No, you're not.  I trust you and I trust your judgment.  You're probably
right.  If I take the job, I'll probably just end up getting shit from all
of them again.  Thanks, Bob, I appreciate your help."  I thought he was
almost about to hug me at that point, but then he seemed to remember where
he was, or maybe who and what I was, and he stopped before he actually did
anything.  Since this crisis had been resolved, we went back to our
individual tasks.

It was now mid-November and Fred had just told us he would be getting
released in a few days.  With time off for good behavior, he will have
completed his sentence by then, and he would once again be a free man.  He
went on to explain that an inmate could be released a minute after
midnight, after their sentence was completed, but only if you had someone
there to pick you up.  Otherwise, the policy was that you would be let go
at 8:00 that morning.  We asked him if he had someone coming to pick him
up, and he said his girlfriend was going to come get him.  Obviously, she
felt he had paid for what he had done and was now willing to forgive and
forget.

At this point I realized how fortunate I actually was, even considering the
predicament I was in.  Most of these guys would get out of here and have
nothing to look forward to.  Their jobs were most likely long gone, and it
was possible that some of them wouldn't even have a place to live when they
got out.  Fred told us he would have to try to find work, once he was on
the outside again, but at least his girlfriend had agreed to take him back,
so he did have a place to live.  Now I thought about Darren.  Even though I
didn't say anything to him or ask him any questions, I wondered what his
situation was going to be like when his time was up.  I know his parents
lived quite a distance away, and he had lost his job after he was
sentenced.  The only thing about his living arrangements that he had told
me about was that he'd been sharing an apartment with the guys he'd been
out drinking with, the night he got arrested.  I wondered if they would
welcome him back now, or if they had also moved on.

As the day of Fred's release approached, he began to say his farewells, and
he even gave Darren the deck of cards we'd all been playing with.  His
good-byes weren't mushy or anything, but he was more than polite in saying
so long to Darren and me, though he only gave a cursory wave good-bye to
the other two.  When we were locked in at 11:00 that evening, Fred was
locked in his cell too, but an hour later one of the guards came back to
get him, and he was taken to be processed out.

As he carried his bag of belongings past our cells, he waved once more, and
then he disappeared from sight.  From my understanding of how the release
process works, he would be given back the items that were taken from him on
the day he entered jail, he would sign some paperwork, and then he would be
allowed to leave with his girlfriend.  I think Darren and I were both happy
for him, but it only made us long even more for the day when we would get
out of here too.  Now the odds on our cellblock suddenly shifted from being
in our favor to being even.  The next inmate to be placed in Fred's old
cell would determine if we were in the minority, or the majority again.

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