Cellmate of the Future

Prison wouldn’t be so bad. I mean, maybe for a month or so.

And it would be one of those things that could potentially be a great life experience, since I would be so out of my comfort zone. I have it all planned out. I’m headed there soon anyways. I’m going to bring a real long book and and talk to my cell make about the super cliche “girl back home.” Our conversation will slowly evolve into “the first thing we’re gonna do when we get out of this joint.” He’s gonna offer me a free tattoo, a real prison one. It’s only natural. He’s going to lean forward and whisper “Don’t. Show. Anyone.Ever.” He’s gonna make me swear it. I’m gonna believe him. I’m gonna follow his orders. We’ll promise to meet up in ten years time, no matter what. The location will be a run down bar just across the street from the prison.

We’ll ten years will pass and I’ll have a wife and a son named Frederick Douglas (after much debate.) Douglas will go missing one day, out of the blue. I won’t be my fault. It won’t be anyone’s fault. The cops have no leads. So what do I do? After realizing it’s the ten year anniversary of the promise I made, I call up my friend from the prison only to realize that I never learned his name. I don’t remember anything of my time there when I start to really think about it. But there is a “???” entry in my phone. What? I’ll dail.

He going to answer already knowing what I’m about to ask. “Yes I will help you find your son,” he will say. “I know who did it. Meet me. I hope you never got that tattoo removed.”

And t think if I didn’t get arrested for shoplifting Magic cards from Walmart.