Straight Life - Art Pepper [159]
Maybe there'd be a sissy, a black sissy. There was this one guy, they called him "Chocolate Bar." He had a joint that was maybe twenty inches long. It looked like a snake. And he would squeeze his legs together so his hair would form, like, a cunt in the front and then in back there'd be this long thing like a tail dangling, his joint. And he would be wiggling and swishing and singing, and all these guys would be saying, "Saaaay, baby! Saaaay, beautiful! Saaaay, honey! Boy, I'd sure like to have some of that! You're sure beautiful, gal!" All this sickening shit, guys looking at you, animals. There are guys that lift weights, that got all kinds of muscles, and they're flashing and posing and trying to prove something I didn't know what or to who. I thought, "What kind of creatures are these? What are they trying to do?" What they were doing, they'd see some guy that was young and tender looking and they were trying to impress him. They were trying to get him hot. Can you imagine a bunch of men trying to make another man hot? And make this little kid want them rather than some big spook or some double-ugly southerner? Then you'd see other guys, just terrified, guys with pimples all over their backs, people with big scars and horrible deformities. And you're there, and there you are, and then some asshole just purposely rubs up against you.
And you had to run and be like an animal just to get a shower. You had to act like the animals in order to make it. They only left the water on a little while so you had to fight, and once you got soap on you, you had to push and to touch a male body ... It's the most sickening thing in the world. But you had to push them out of the way to get into the shower because you had these guys that thought they were real tough and they'd stand right in the middle. You were taking your life in your hands. They had fights all the time. And the guards were standing up on the walkway with rifles trained on the showers.
The dregs of humanity, boy, that's what they are. The only thing I can liken it to is when I was in the army in England and France, the American soldiers. They were ordinary people that you'd see on the streets at home; they had mothers and fathers; and they were just human beings that go to church and are polite-actual humans that can get on a bus and pay the fare, transact business. And I saw them overseas screaming at women pushing baby carriages, "Hey, baby! Hey, you fineassed, high-cunted bitch! Hey, baby! How'd you like to suck on my big cock, you beautiful motherfucker you?" That's how they talked, and that's what they did, and it was the same in San Quentin. I thought, "Am I one of these?" I thought, "Here I am again." Only it was worse because I was locked up. I wanted to kill them all. I thought if I just had a knife or a gun or some poison gas.
I realized I couldn't stand the way I felt during those first few showers. I realized if I stayed like that I wouldn't make it. I'd kill somebody or get killed and never get out. I'd never, ever be able to play again. I'd never be able to get up in the morning and go for a walk. Never see happiness and beauty. I'd never have any loved ones again, any love at all, anything decent. I'd never be able to feel the warmth of a woman's body. I'd never know the companionship of a woman's love, just to be in a house with her and be able to hold her and look at her and to feel that I had the comfort and care of another human being. The pleasure of lying together, watching TV, touching one another, waking up in the middle of the night and feeling her body, her hair, having something of beauty there. I thought, "I'll never make it." I would have to kill someone or they'd have to kill me because I hated them so much. Every person. And I hated, above all, everybody who had a hand in putting me there, all the circumstances,