All posts by Joshua Ryan

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The WORC Program – Part 04

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By Joshua Ryan

Maybe it was around 8 o’clock when they locked me in. I’d never gone to sleep that early in my life. And who knows how many hours it was till I took that shit? I was totally out of it. Totally wasted by these insults I’d received. But the morning came, signaled by a BANG on the door. A voice yelled “CHOW. Eat it all. NOW.” A little hatch opened in the door, and another dose of workie food dropped into my storage unit.

OK, I was hungry again. So I ate it. Sitting on my “bed,” with the crumbs dropping onto my naked junk. And hair growing on my face that I couldn’t shave off. And a collar around my neck!

I was just finishing my workie breakfast bar when the same voice went down the line saying, “It’s time! Take a shit and fold your blanket! It’s time! Take a shit . . . .”

I didn’t need to shit again, so I folded my blanket and laid it on my bed, hoping that I did it right. Then the door was unlocked. I saw another workie looking back at me. This one’s name was Drum. It was his voice that had been giving the orders. You know those guys that are so buffed out, their clothes don’t fit anymore? That was Drum.

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The WORC Program – Part 03

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By Joshua Ryan

On the other side of the door there was very short hallway, with another door at the end. The first door was wood, but the next door was steel, and it had a lot of steel crossbars and rivets embedded in it. One of the WORC cops inserted a key and slowly swung the door open. Whoa! The thing must have been six inches thick! What the fuck! I saw a wide hallway leading back into the building. The floor was concrete, the walls were concrete, the ceiling was steel. Ugly? You bet.

There was a bunch of guys sitting on a bench in the hallway with their arms cuffed behind them. What do you think–maybe we were all there for the same purpose? More future workies!

“Sit,” one of the cops told me, and I dropped down next to the other guys. You probably never had to sit on a steel bench with your hands cuffed behind your back, so I’ll tell you–it isn’t easy. “And keep quiet,” the cop said. Then the two cops went on down the hallway and disappeared.

Continue reading The WORC Program – Part 03 →

Story

The WORC Program – Part 02

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By Joshua Ryan

I woke up pretty slowly the next afternoon. Mike wasn’t there. He must have seen how passed out I was and figured it wasn’t safe to get me up. He was probably at his office. Maria had left some coffee and a tray of croissants and fruit and little slices of ham—very tasty, despite her being a bitch. I gradually recalled what had happened the night before. I was just as mad as I was then, thinking about those mean things Jerry had said, and how he’d taunted me. And what I’d agreed to do. I’d agreed to become a workie! How did that happen? How could that possibly have happened? I was confused . . . . And at that moment, my phone went off. Jerry, of course. Why not?

“Carson? Mike’s not there–I guess I can talk to you. You remember what we talked about last night? Vaguely? OK. I called the guy at WORC that I mentioned last night, and he was free for lunch—actually, I think he always is. Some people are. So I fed him some drinks and he said sure, you can be a workie. Just like we planned.”

“Uh . . . ” I said.

“I left him a couple minutes ago. It’s all fixed up. All you quote need to do unquote is write something on social media about how great the WORC program is–great, but demanding. I know you won’t do that, and he knows that too. But it’s all set up. You’ll have your two days as a workie.”

“I . . . uh . . . .” Long pause.

Continue reading The WORC Program – Part 02 →

Story

The WORC Program – Part 01

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The WORC Program

By Joshua Ryan
Part 1

This is a story about adults, and for adults only.

It is also fiction. Any connection to real entities is purely coincidental.

 

OK, I admit it. I wasn’t a perfect boyfriend.

I guess I’d lost some interest. For one thing, Mike was 20 years older than me. Granted, he was in good condition. Nice face, nice eyes, nice hair, body still pretty much together—although I gotta say, he had about 15 pounds that he didn’t need. I’d been really interested in him at the start, and there was still something strong between us. I mean, it wasn’t like we NEVER had sex. In my way, I truly loved him.

And I knew I should be grateful to him. Mike had definitely done a lot for me. He’d put me through that last year of college, he’d got me a job afterwards, and he’d supported me totally when the job didn’t pan out. If he hadn’t paid off my debts after I quit that place, I don’t know what I would have done. I would’ve had to take some shit job, just to make ends meet. And like anybody could tell you, that wasn’t my style.

So obviously, Mike had money. Those investments of his had really paid off. Some guys have all the luck! So he could afford to bail me out that way. And I know, at his time of life, he enjoyed just having somebody staying around the house, looking nice for him when he got home.

I know he used to enjoy watching me napping by the pool, or just sitting in front of the mirror, making sure that my hair was right. It was all for him, really. A guy needs his boyfriend to take care of himself. And I wouldn’t have been half as hot if I’d had to go to some crummy office every day and miss my swim and my massage and my haircut and just worry every minute about paying my debts–when Mike had plenty of money to pay them anyway.

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Story

The Convict – Part 19

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By Joshua Ryan

Documents Relating to Convict 353308, Rossetti, Jason Scott

Inmate, Southern Regional Longterm Correctional Facility

 

Document 8

 

DATE:

051019

 

SENDER:

351699 Cleveland

Inmate, SRLCF

 

RECIPIENT:

Mrs. Heather Johnston

1112 Detroit Street

Milestone IN

 

STATUS:

Approved for Transmission

 

***CONVICT TRANSMISSION NOT TO EXCEED 400 WORDS***

 

Dear Sis,

I’m sorry you’re not able to come out to see me this year, but I understand. I think it’s great that you and Frank are buying that cabin at Pleasant Lake.

You asked whether me and my cellie are still getting along. You bet. It’s funny, you know, because he was a college kid who was also a Business Executive before he was put in stir, but as you probably predicted Ive been showing him the ropes. Actually, I was worried because I was celling alone and who knows what would happen when they put some other con in with me, but J is exactly the cellie I wanted. Do you know what I mean? :-) I think you do.

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Story

The Convict – Part 18

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By Joshua Ryan

Documents Relating to Convict 353308 Rossetti, Jason Scott

Inmate, Southern Regional Longterm Correctional Facility

 

Document 1

 

DATE:

011319

 

SENDER:

351699 Cleveland

Inmate, SRLCF

 

RECIPIENT:

Mrs. Heather Johnston

1112 Detroit Street

Milestone IN

 

STATUS:

Approved for Transmission

 

***CONVICT TRANSMISSIONS NOT TO EXCEED 400 WORDS***

 

Dear Sis,

I’m sorry I haven’t written to you, its been very busy here. You remember how I said I didnt have a cellmate? Well now I’ve got one. Too bad, eh? Not really. His name is Jason and I like him a lot. He was in college so I guess I’m sort of in over my head, but he’s teaching me a lot of stuff. :-)

Thanks for the birthday gift, which they finaly gave me. You know they only let us have a couple books at a time, so I had to get rid of one of my books before they gave me another one. Big deal, huh? I like that story about the guy that had everything except the one thing he really wanted to have. But listen, the next time you send something I wish youd send me a big book about science, cause Jason is gonna teach me that. (He didn’t say so but he is.) I want to learn about astronnomy so try that. I always liked stars.

Well its Sunday night and I gotta be at the office early tomorrow morning. (Smile) Anyway it’s time for me to sign off for now.

Write soon,

Jacob

Convict #351699

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Story

The Convict – Part 17

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By Joshua Ryan

“This is Officer Nolan,” he said to his cellphone. “Open A292.” I heard the bars slide back.

“Inside, convict.”

I opened my eyes. There was a gap in the bars. The cell door was open. It wasn’t very wide. It was just the gate to a cage. I could tell that I’d have to tilt my bedroll to get it through. I lifted one side, maneuvering it. I would have to be careful not to let anything drop . . .

Then I saw it.   There was something long and thick lying on the lower bunk, something brown that was shaped like a man. There were letters and numbers stamped on its surface.   It was a convict, lying face down in my cell. Wait a minute! Couldn’t the officer see that the place was already full?

I almost blurted that out. Then I remembered: there were two convicts stuffed in all those other cells. That bundle of clothes on the bunk was only one convict. I was the other one.

I stopped in the doorway. I was scared to wake up that thing on the metal shelf. Jesus, it was dark in there, especially after the spotlight I’d faced outside. I could see a naked lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, but it wasn’t turned on. The only light was the gray stuff leaking in from the walkway. That was enough for me to see that the whole cell wasn’t much larger than a medium-sized closet. It was a lot smaller than my bathroom at home. What used to be my home. Half the cell was bunks, one shelf above the other on the right side, against the wall. A lot of the rest was toilet — a metal toilet squatting against the back wall, a toilet without a seat, with something that looked like a little sink built into the top of it. The thing was gleaming at me in the faint light. Christ! I thought. They wash in the shitter. A wave of contempt ran through me. Probably one of them crapped while the other one washed his face in the crapper. They were like cats in a cage, with a little litterbox all their own. And now I was one of them.

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Story

The Convict – Part 16

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By Joshua Ryan

“Boss! Yes Boss!” College Boy said, dropping his hand and jumping to attention. By then, I was standing at attention too.

“Awright,” Officer Nolan said, giving us the kind of smile that you give to a couple of monkeys that you catch dickin off in their cage. “Fun time is over. Grab your gear and follow me, convict.”

I stood by the counter and stuck out my arms, and Brian stacked my gear on them. Bedroll at the bottom, followed by trousers, shirts, underwear, and sox. The baggie perched on top. My arms were loaded.

“Hey!” the officer said. “I thought he was dressin in.”

“Boss! Yes Boss!” Brian said.

“Where’s his fuckin cap?”

“Boss! Sorry, Boss!” Brian answered. The cap was lurking on the counter. He picked it up and put it on my head. Now I was dressed in.

“You trusties get away with a lot,” Officer Nolan said.

“Boss! Yes Boss!” Brian said. I could see he was smiling, and it was obvious that Officer Nolan didn’t see that he was. “Clean up in here,” he said. “Then get back to your cage.”

Continue reading The Convict – Part 16 →