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My name, automatically being Melon Boobs, made me even more famous, my fame dispersed all around the Prison facility. I was too desperate to get out of this obscure place, but it would take me 10 endless years.


For breakfast, for the fresh three weeks of being incarcerated, I was offered my Mama's food. She would prepare the nicest dishes, the one screaming and bellowing at my conscience for doing such a terrible crime, obviously making me do my time in Prison.


I tried to enjoy the Curry-seasoned meals, but my buds would rebuff the welcoming taste, making me wish to starve instead. A few of the other Inmates would tease me and call me new names, such as, Cry Baby, Newbie and so much more, I wasn't too comfortable to share with anyone.


For lunch, Mama would bring another round of meals, but since the Prison workers were obviously hungry too, they would eat the bigger share of the food, leaving crumbs for my livid belly. Mama would look into my eyes, asking if it was right to remonstrate but my eyeballs would kneel and plead, telling her not to say a word.


For dinner, we would eat the too starchy carbohydrate meals, making me notice my now fat and awkward belly and frail arms. I was a mess!


The other Inmates would make up jokes about one another in the tight and pee-smelling Cell, making me uncomfortable and unable to sleep for hours. Soon, it would be morning and a play-on-play with actions would repeat itself.


I eventually grew a sour face, just like my reputation. I grew pimples, skin rash and acne on my erstwhile fair skin, making me irritated, whenever I smeared my hands on my scaly skin. It was just like the others. I was just like the others.


I smelled just like them, after not taking a single shower session for days. I talked like them, whenever Mama came visiting with her meals. I acted like them eventually, after making a mess of daubed blood on one of the Inmates, with a really mean punch squarely on the face.


That was when the Prison officials stopped calling me, Melon Boobs and I grew a new name on my skin, now, Iron Hand. Some called me Iron Lady instead, but I was no Margaret Thatcher. I was a demeaning human, who deserved no sort of respect.


After the misdemeanour punch, I was forced like a petulant child to sleep in the most disgusting and horrifying Cell they could find. It smelled more like Poop now, making me wish for a refund for the Pee smelling Cell.


The next day, I and Sylvia, Cashew Boobs were also forced to do silly punishments, to pay for our previous offences with the other Inmates. When I asked Sylvia what she had done, she was rather mute, making me feel she must have done something worse than I did.


The Prison Officials bellowed and laughed at the same time, as I and Sylvia did all sort of humiliating and gruelling punishments, such as cutting the grasses, strewn all around the repulsive environment of the Prison, taking out considerable buckets of metallic-smelling waste, both watery and solid bodily waste and sitting directly under the Sun for a lot of hours.


That was when I missed the comfort of the Pee or Poop smelling Cells. My body racked and so did my soul. There was no other feeling like it.

HOPE DIS YA NEW STORY WIL NT TAKE DSAME TURN LIKE "THE DELIVERENCE" COX IT WAS TU SHORT... HP U WOULD CONTINUE DIS STORY BY POSTING MORE INTERESTING UPDATE...

advocatebaba:
HOPE DIS YA NEW STORY WIL NT TAKE DSAME TURN LIKE "THE DELIVERENCE" COX IT WAS TU SHORT... HP U WOULD CONTINUE DIS STORY BY POSTING MORE INTERESTING UPDATE...

I shall. I won't let you down this time.
Thanks for hanging around and commenting.

RemenZack:
I shall. I won't let you down this time. Thanks for hanging around and commenting.

watching from a dist...