The day after Alfredo got transferred we had sloppy joes. I for one was grateful. The kid turned out to be a god-damned wet blanket. In the beginning when he asked to get paired up with me I didn’t mind. In fact- I felt sorry for him. His previous cellmate could often be heard having violent outbursts in the gym or ranting angrily to himself about God and interest rates. As fate would have it my own cellmate decided one day to masturbate openly which led me to ask for a new cell placement. Alfredo came in the same day.

No one in their right mind wants to be in jail. It’s an often unspoken commonality that we prisoners all share so actually saying you don’t want to be here is like being stabbed and complaining about how you don’t like pain. We get it. Nonetheless Alfredo would often moan incessantly about wanting to go home and not wanting to be in jail. To make matters worse after our early morning breakfasts he’d gotten into the habit of asking me if I planned to go back to sleep. If I said no he’d ask me at least three more times in less than 10 minutes. Irritating to say the least. Even when both of us were awake Alfredo inherently had nothing to say in the way of small talk. I think owing to his young age he really didn’t have any rich experiences to share and to top it all off- he stopped taking showers.

So when the time came for the elders to place our lots during menu planning the decision was unanimous. I must say; Alfredo was much more interesting as a burger than a cellmate.