THE INSIDE JOB (Chapt 13)
…I soon was feeling so good, that I just had to make myself feel even better. That is the nature of an addiction: it is often easier to stay sober, when it feels like shit and nothing to celebrate. To smuggle drugs into a prison can be difficult, but never impossible.Things here however were simple- if not thrown over the fence, the package could be delivered by a visiting friend or a relative. The prices were tripple atleast and one often got less than promiced. I wasn`t about to get cheated, so I was back in business, however money were of no interest, since the only extra nessesary expence when you are locked up are just drugs, so I kept them for my self, sharing a few hits now and then out of the kindness of my drugg pumped heart. However as bonus it have bought some extra respect- very few dared to smuggle here and I was soon to find out why.
I was without a care inthe world, flying high as a kite infront of the guards on speed and smoking evening joints in my cell.
The search was like a lightning from a clear sky. 2 officers asked me to vaccate the cell. I took my rolling tobaco pack and was about to leave when…
-Put that on the bed, son.
I was fucked: incide the package was leftovers from the recent hasch and benzo (downers) delivery. I knew I was in trouble, just not in how deep. I was taken to the isolation cell in the basement. The room was tiny, barely having place for a yellow vinyl madrass on the floor and a metall toilet, sticking out of the wall. It was so dark without a window that it took a while for my eyes to adjust. Even if I had a book it would be impossible to read. The toilet was jammed and there was no water. I finaly saw what prisons must be like in most of the less civilised world and the US of A. Well, according to some humane European laws, complete isolation for longer than 3 days and nights is concidered a torture- I tried to comfort myself, knowing very well that meny of my friends have spent months with no human contact, waiting for a trial. Time has stopped. There was no night or day-the only thing to look forward to was the feeding time, also giving me some idea of how much time must`ve passed.
I dreaded the time when once`s psyche starts playing tricks. Talking to once self… Then starting to hear the answears… Luckily I never got that far. A few days later I was taken to another jail, to waite for the trial.
The new place was alot shabbier and alot more heavily guarded. The same day I arrived, I met two russians, who got busted in a stolen car or something. They were locked up indefinetly, since they could not be deported due to the absence of any documents, plus they were coming from Georgia and Sweden had no diplomatic relations with that old Sovjet republic.
I had to think of something, but for now I discovered, reading the lable on the facewash that one of the inmates recieved from the jail doctor, that the liquid consisted of allmost pure alkohol. I got really drunk that day and decided to visit the church group. I don`t remember what I was saying exactly, but remember playing the devil`s advocate, trying to convince the priest that God does not exist and leaving him speachless, mostly because of me wreaking of boose.
Days went by making toys for a large company in the prison workshop and enjoying an occasionall heroine delivery. Time went by and I was getting restless. I noticed that certain days the main gates would briefly open to let in and out the delivery truck. This should automatically trigger the lock mechanism in the work shop`s door, situated in the same yard, but according to the red indicator lamp above the door- it often did not…
I was without a care inthe world, flying high as a kite infront of the guards on speed and smoking evening joints in my cell.
The search was like a lightning from a clear sky. 2 officers asked me to vaccate the cell. I took my rolling tobaco pack and was about to leave when…
-Put that on the bed, son.
I was fucked: incide the package was leftovers from the recent hasch and benzo (downers) delivery. I knew I was in trouble, just not in how deep. I was taken to the isolation cell in the basement. The room was tiny, barely having place for a yellow vinyl madrass on the floor and a metall toilet, sticking out of the wall. It was so dark without a window that it took a while for my eyes to adjust. Even if I had a book it would be impossible to read. The toilet was jammed and there was no water. I finaly saw what prisons must be like in most of the less civilised world and the US of A. Well, according to some humane European laws, complete isolation for longer than 3 days and nights is concidered a torture- I tried to comfort myself, knowing very well that meny of my friends have spent months with no human contact, waiting for a trial. Time has stopped. There was no night or day-the only thing to look forward to was the feeding time, also giving me some idea of how much time must`ve passed.
I dreaded the time when once`s psyche starts playing tricks. Talking to once self… Then starting to hear the answears… Luckily I never got that far. A few days later I was taken to another jail, to waite for the trial.
The new place was alot shabbier and alot more heavily guarded. The same day I arrived, I met two russians, who got busted in a stolen car or something. They were locked up indefinetly, since they could not be deported due to the absence of any documents, plus they were coming from Georgia and Sweden had no diplomatic relations with that old Sovjet republic.
I had to think of something, but for now I discovered, reading the lable on the facewash that one of the inmates recieved from the jail doctor, that the liquid consisted of allmost pure alkohol. I got really drunk that day and decided to visit the church group. I don`t remember what I was saying exactly, but remember playing the devil`s advocate, trying to convince the priest that God does not exist and leaving him speachless, mostly because of me wreaking of boose.
Days went by making toys for a large company in the prison workshop and enjoying an occasionall heroine delivery. Time went by and I was getting restless. I noticed that certain days the main gates would briefly open to let in and out the delivery truck. This should automatically trigger the lock mechanism in the work shop`s door, situated in the same yard, but according to the red indicator lamp above the door- it often did not…
