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Island Paradise – Part 1: Chapter 17

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By Joshua Ryan

Chapter 17: Preparing for Your New Career in the Hospitality Sector

Two tall young slappies jumped out of the van.  One opened the door for Mr. Williams; the other took charge of Kristian and me.

We were told to face the van, and we heard our shackles being unlocked and falling onto the concrete.  Then we heard, “OK, I be gettin you in now.”  “In” meant the luggage compartment—a windowless steel box with a tiny grille through which we glimpsed, for a moment, the luxurious compartment where Mr. Williams was now positioning himself amid pale green leather upholstery.  In the luggage compartment there were hooks on each side, up near the top, to secure any cargo that might get loose.  But now we were the cargo, and we were attached to the hooks by our cuffs.  A few moments were required for the slappie to push us into place, facing each other; then the hooks clicked shut, the door slammed, the slappie’s heavy boots pounded their way to the driver’s compartment, and the delivery van was in motion.

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My Adventures With Billy – Part 12

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By Robmacz

Four days later I was lying on my bunk in my jail cell chatting to a first time inmate serving two days for a DUI. The irony was not lost on me. Just three months before, I was in this guy’s shoes.  I wondered whether this was the start of his slippery slope and he would soon end up in mine. So this time it was me showing him the ropes, and he seemed to think I was some big-time villain, especially when i told him the sentence I had just received. This was a role reversal I had not really anticipated, but it felt good nonetheless.

I knew that I could be transported to the state penitentiary at any moment, but it still came as a shock when the guards turned up first thing in the morning and announced that I’d be shipping out in ten minutes and I just had time to take a shit and a piss. I did as I was told, knowing it could be a long day ahead. They returned soon after I had finished, with a full set of chains.

‘Hands out in front,’ one of the guards commanded.

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My Adventures With Billy – Part 11

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By Robmacz

Half an hour later I shuffled into the same interview room I’d been in the previous night, only this time there was were four other people waiting for me–Mike, the two detectives, and a man I presumed was the DA. The guard escorted me to my seat. This time I had a full belly chain on with my hands cuffed to my sides. I was pushed down into my chair by the guard.

‘Before we start,’ Mike said, ‘I want to stipulate that my client will be fully co-operative in this matter.  But although this is a serious offence, my client is in a position to offer other information, relating to more serious criminal activity. He is prepared to provide you with that information and testify if necessary. In return he would be grateful for certain undertakings.’

‘I don’t think your client is in any position to make any deals,’ the DA responded. ‘He is looking at several felonies and by my calculation is likely to be looking at 30 to life.’

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Island Paradise – Part 1: Chapter 16

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By Joshua Ryan

Chapter 16: Establishing Your True Worth

There were bets about how quick Yash would go, and the ones that bet on his thirty-first day in the Coop were right.  I took longer.  Lots longer.  By the time I went to the Room, I was the longest-running slap in the Coop.  But just when I thought I was lost in the system, the boss grabbed me out of the line leaving the chow hall and told me to “stand aside.”  “Aside” was a collection of three slappies–me, a 20-something named Kristian that had been vacationing from Sweden and had suddenly discovered that coke was not allowed on St. Bevons Island, and a young local named Marco, a “rude boy” that had got himself “sent down thee road” to Slappieville.   Marco was a kid, 18 or 19, whose eyes kept roving back and forth like he expected someone to kill him.  Kristian was tall and his stubble was blond, but he was skinny and somehow professorial.  Even after his weeks in Slaptown, he was still looking around him in a bewildered way, like he’d lost his glasses or his cellphone.

The Boss led us to the Intake shack, where Jojo and Malcolm gave us a shower and a new set of browns and boots.  “Lookin you best for thee Man” was Jojo’s comment.  “No haircut?” I said.  “No mon, that stubble you got is you best feature mon.”  When they were finished, they shackled our legs and cuffed our hands in front of us.  Then they locked our cuffs to a chain.  An officer came by, grunted something at the trusties, gripped the end of the chain, and gave it a tug.  We shuffled forward.  “You’re on your way to the Show Room,” he said.  Like we wouldn’t have guessed.  But that was that.  No long goodbyes.

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