Day 3, renovation.

We are naked in our cells, with the exception of a belt. I got transferred to a temporary cell with 10121977. Felt like I've known him for years. He's got pasty white skin, so I pray very very hard for the sun not to come out today. They are jackhammering my cell for god knows what. 10121977's playing some epic hero game in a cardboard box. Calls his hero Slater. He's been in here long. Got a mattress. I love mattresses. It's slumberlicious. There's some book on social psychology on it. It's a good pillow. Then suddenly he tells me he's thawing some prawns. I don't see any so I ask him where it is. He kept mum about it.

I go back to my cell for cell mate 29121983 to join me. They beat up his left leg real good. So we invented future IDs for recognition: cralaucralau, badladcrud, and acububad. We talk about boxing. A true champion is one who picks himself up. I tell him if I ever break out, I'll go to Cuba, sell vacuum cleaners, moonlight as an amateur boxer and listen to Omara everyday. The cell is now orange so I draw a duck and a dog.

Maurice tells me that Netball is an evening sport. He told me the Queen has a funny perm. She also sings like Glenda. Who's Glenda? He tells me her enemies are dodgeball players. True. But who's Glenda? I know Grant Hill drinks Sprite, but who's Glenda?