A lot of stuff just happens here.

I’ve known Dave for over a year. Some people belong here, some people belong nowhere, Dave belongs – well, everywhere. He is my age, well-educated, and in really good shape physically in spite of a few nicks and bruises. He needs a cornea transplant, one has failed. He had trouble with his gallbladder, but they tell him that is cleared up. Anyway, Dave wakes me up daily, at different times, to show or tell me of some great occurrence in his life. This could be anything from, “I just heard an old song on the radio,” to, “I think a spider bit me.” We later decided ‘the spider’ was just a vampire who was practicing on Dave. He is still very much not ‘the undead’.

He also has a fantastic sense of humor, an almost childlike approach to the bizarre, inexplicable things that happen to us on an hourly basis. So when he came to me with a gecko in tow, I thought nothing of it.

“His name is Joey – Joey Blue!” Dave exclaimed.

“Joey is a girl, Dave,” I told him.

“How can you tell?”

“Because he has a girl’s name,” I said.

“Joey is a boy’s name.”

“True, but Joey Blue is a stripper’s name,” I closed.

He had the lizard for two days before it escaped. Crestfallen, Dave moped for a few hours until the next pet arrived.

“Look, I’ve got a new friend,” Dave said proudly. He opened his palm and in it sat a small field mouse, scared shitless.

“That’s a baby rat, Dave.”

“No,” he explained, “It’s a mouse. Rats are bigger.”

“We all start out small, Dave,” I quipped.

“What do we name him?”

I told him not to name him after a stripper – maybe Fifel?

So, for a day, Dave fed Fifel peanut butter sandwich squares and pet him.

We already know that, as a warden, Dave sucks.  So, he woke me from my midmorning nap to tell me, “Fifel escaped!”

I saw that one coming.

Later that day, at about 3:30 PM, I was straightening my cell and I lifted my book from my clothes which were on top of my tennis shoes.  And, there was Fifel – looking up at me, all warm and safe.

I called to Dave, who is half deaf anyway, and told him to come fetch his errant mouse. Dave, slow in his reaction time, couldn’t catch Fifel, who was apparently tired of being fed peanut butter squares and being guarded.  Aren’t we all?

Fifel is still on the loose.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR.  Shipwrecked and found.  John is currently doing a recent two-year set off, after 25 years of incarceration.  He can be contacted at:
John Green #671771
C.T. Terrell Unit A150
1300 FM655
Rosharon, TX 77583