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THE THROW DOWN by Mark Anthony Given

Everywhere I go I find that a poet has been there before me. -Sigmund Freud
       WHEN you're in jail or prison you will hang onto anything that identifies or separates you from the guy next door in Cell 2 where Joe Nobody resides, the place you don't want to be. Some guys are known for hurting people for pay. Somebody owes something, this guy will go get it for you for half of whatever it is. If he wants will take all of it, you’re probably not going to do nothing about it.
          ACCORDING to MSNBC #LOCKDOWN #EXTENDEDSTAY Rule 38 Violators are routinely identified and held accountable but are repeatedly caught whipping it out right in front of a woman (I suspect it is rampant in women's facilities by the portion of this epidemic). Each time they brought the deviant recidivist to a hearing officer the inmate often had a cheerful face like he thought it was the most normal thing in the world to masturbate in public and it was a perfectly harmless minor offense for which he would almost gladly do his thirty day redemption for often just a few minutes, or even seconds, that she made eye contact with the very center of his very small universe.....
           I KNEW GUYS WHO got out of bed every day and went about their routine like everyone else except his sole mission in life was to gun down some naive young new recruit right in her tracks, right where he found her. She didn't stand a chance and the fraction of a second after she seen this freak creeping her for weeks finally bust something loose she pushed 333 on her body monitor and alarms went off from one end of the institution to the other and a big fat heavy red phone rang hundreds of miles away and fifty automated eMail Emergency Alerts alarming cell phones in every direction. Gunner didn't care. He knew this routine he could play it out in his mind again and again for the rest of his miserable life, as she emerges on him with her Taser as the sound of alarms and men in boots running in slippery hallways Gunner had just laid down a hundred feet of slippery ass dish washing soap from the spray bottle he was supposed to be wiping down windows or something. He had already played this out in his mind and was almost erect hoping she would just maybe, glance at "IT" for just one more second and it would be Mission Complete. When the first barrage of Emergency Full Court Press OFFICER NEEDS HELP response came around the corner and started busting their ass in six different directions three and four at a time, falling all over themselves like Keystone Cops. The other inmates either caught the floor immediately right where they were to be able to watch "The Show," because this will be the talk of the joint for less than a few days and yet another tragedy plays out on the other side of reality.....
           SOME WOMEN love getting gunned down:  A Man and a Woman separated by heavy safety glass usually many layers, electronically controlled large metal doors, late at night and she's watching fifty to a hundred men; some of them ain't sleeping.
           I NEVER THOUGHT I'd write about my magical childhood because I didn't think anyone would believe it. Now I can't believe I am writing this story because I hope nobody does believe it. When I was at the Mobile Metro Jail alongside Interstate 10 in Mobile, Alabama, waiting for the Fed's to come get me for a parole violation, for the first and last time like my father before me, I became a "Gunner." Just one Woman, just a few times and, SHOCKER ALERT!: Some Women Love It! Giving the right circumstances, considering you’re in another dimension of reality, i.e., incarcerated?
           I KNEW THIS WOMEN'S SCHEDULE after just a few weeks and it wasn't long before I was waiting on her and she would be waiting on me and our worlds would collide. Thirty-two dark hair and dark eyes with big full lips..... There are some women who could put on a burlap sack and bust loose at every seam with the stuff dreams are made of, which is what this woman looked like. Thirty or forty feet of dead air and time and space she was kind of raised up from where I stood along a concrete wall that separated PODs before a full length big open sliding door of bars designed to see everything, looking straight at me if she looked at the center of her vision range, watching four PODS. You could still see her from the waist up if she stood up and after the horseplay and people are supposed to be at sleep she could turn her upper body in any direction and hold it for just a beat too long, and I know another man was turning in early. She had a rack under a military style shirt with big pockets that you couldn't squeeze and Ink pen in there. Tired of sitting in the swivel office chair she would sit side saddle on the desk fronted by low monitors of the hallways leading to where she sat in the City Jail, so she could lean forward with great fan fare to push a button or another that usually signaled an intermission in the Midnight Matinee.
          SHE HAD A FACE that launched a thousand loads and they were lined up around the block, but Gunner had her in his sites. MAIN TWO WEST was the corridor from the Administration Building to the HOSPITAL Foot to Foot and inch to inch the length of the ninety foot gleaming corridor were under total surveillance by GUNNER the entire 0:43.02 traverse that he had shined and polished that shiny new corridor you would have thought you were entering a government hospital or CIA HEADQUARTERS or a Top Secret hospital accompanied by GUNNER 's watchful eye.

          HE WAS SUPPOSED to be manning the south bound end of a north bound broom or polishing all the shiny surfaces but there was nothing else to clean he lingered with a spray bottle and paper towel at one end of the corridor or the other pretending to be stamping out germs but his darting eyes belied his intentions. The Staff knew who he was and hoped to try and keep a better eye on him but they all knew that if history is any indication of the future,


          GUNNERS MASTER PLAN included a forty day build out where he would work like a demon with a dream to get to where he was now; pristine and in order and operational, and if you were Female it included door to door he'd talk to you like a seasoned valet parker all the while eyeball raping you and everything you owned. ‘Creeping you right out and on paper, he was identified as a nonviolent offender and career and lifelong fuckup who would not hurt a Fly and if you were female, GUNNER just wanted to hose you down...
          BUSTED NOSE SMASHED into concrete and it really hurt being pummeled to the shiny highly polished Portland Cement which he just spent weeks polishing like messaging and old sore he watched every move she made and it creeped her right out, and it just turned him on that she was repulsed by him. NO LESS THAN ten large men dressed in black with plastic shields and hard military rock climbing boots standing all over him where they couldn't pile on him, they were all sick of this creep and he was going to know it. The sound of metal handcuffs grinding metal with a plastic knee pad in the middle of his back the fattest one took his time fumbling with his radio, "SLOW IT DOWN," while one huge man on each side of him cranked his arm in the wrong direction to cuff him and screamed to everyone watching, "STOP RESISTING!" but GUNNER was losing conscious fast, the place we all hope to be except GUNNER wasn't looking so good, in all the excitement no one noticed his eyes were rolled up in the back of his head and flickering real fast.
         NO LESS THAN TEN LARGE MEN and a woman with a small video recorder had at least one foot on the man quivering on the floor like he was either having an orgasm or an epileptic fit.... 
        IT WAS JUST LIKE GUNNER PLANNED IT and worked like a Charm, she even got a real good look at the center of his whole world and he could swear she looked just a beat too long, so he knew she wanted him...
          HE HADN'T PLANNED ON his long running and well planned sexual fantasy feeling this good and climaxing right there withering on a cold hard prison stone in Rachel's Pain when the smallest unit of blood reached his lips, where on the other side of reality when you’re in jail or prison and it's time for The Throw Down, where life equals pain, and good life means lots of Pain.
          MANY A NIGHT I drove by there on the interstate hauling ass and remembered standing in them windows that were like eight inches across and thirty inches high of one-inch security glass encased in steel and concrete. I was waiting on the Fed's to transport me into federal custody and a lifetime away from Mobile, Alabama, for parole violation: dirty UA for smoking pot. It pissed me off to no end to be locked up with these miscreants for merely smoking pot, I spent my days reading law books and wouldn't you know? Bingo, right out of the clear blue sky I run across this case that fit me like a pair of well-worn leather shoes. This case, an United States Federal Court of Appeals for the Eleventh Circuit, the highest court in the land, other than the US Supreme Court, said that because when I got back into federal custody and summarily taking before the United States Parole Commission, I would be punished by established Guidelines so many months for whatever offense, that the District Court had the authority, and the high court urged a reduced sentence to avoid abridging the Double Jeopardy/Punishment Clause of the Fifth Amendment to the US Constitution. I get in front of the same old bastard judge known to be the meanest most cantankerous bastard you ever met, and he looked the part. The Honorable Judge Brevard Hand. The old unrespected jurist should have been on the Eleventh Circuit Court of Appeals himself, twenty years before and he was still pissed off about it.
         UNLESS YOU HAD TIME to lay around on your ass all day in a hillbilly jail cell reading law books with idiots fighting over Honey Buns, you would never know of a little-known case called Potashnick v. Port City Const. Co. my judge was involved in:

"Our first ground for reversal results from the trial court judge's failure to disqualify himself from participation in the proceeding before him. The judge, in this case, was involved in business dealings with the plaintiff's attorney. The judge's father was the senior partner in the law firm representing the plaintiff. The parties do not allege that the judge exhibited any actual bias or prejudice in the case; they assert only that under the circumstances his impartiality might reasonably be questioned." Potashnick v. Port City Const. Co., 609 F.2d 1101 (1980).

           TWENTY YEARS LATER when I walked into his courtroom in Orange Jump suit, belly chains, no underwear, unshaven and standing in different colored and two sizes too big dirty old shower shoes, it smelled of something bad happened here and bad things happen here all the time.   My prosecutor, who is now a senior judge in the same court was the Honorable Ginny Grenade. My dumpster attorney told me they were known in legal circles as "Hand Granade," together and I didn't stand a chance at trial. I told him to strike up the jury and what side was he on? I was sitting at on the first row of the nearly empty large main courtroom where they did Arraignments and US Citizenship Swearing In's with four or five low-level drug dealers going to federal prison for twenty or thirty years for a handful of crack cocaine in the late eighties. After several quick arraignments with standby counsel you'll never see again, I get up to the podium and looked around and took a deep breath and said, "Good morning, ya'll! Your Honor, the Defendant will not be heard to disrespect the Court or its Representatives, but I respectfully assert my Sixth Amendment Right to Self Representation and invoke Farretta v. California. This was supposed to be almost over and people were folding up their notepads, etc, and then I see them set back like "We might be here awhile." I look behind me at the row of jumpsuits watching me, like "Damn, I need to talk to this guy!"

          SOME WOMEN LOVED GETTING GUNNED DOWN! Active participants in brutal beat downs and begging for more! Man after man she was under full facial assaults from every direction and licking on her fingers and smiling like she was a Prom Queen at KFC...
          THE MIDNIGHT FIGHT CLUB's unspoken rule, "Don't Discuss the 'Midnight Matinee." I could hear another prisoner next door or up stairs, with two open floors with bars floor to ceiling, there wasn't nothing she couldn't see. I finally got the nerve to ask this guy who I was certain it was. We were up on the second floor after supper I was stretching on the handrail watching the nightly news on a TV bolted to the wall near the front door and all the windows watching us. When he realized what I was talking about a look of pure fright came over him and he looked around quickly to see who was watching us talking. He looked back at me to see if I had lost my mind and acted like he didn't know what I was talking about and avoided me after that. This was serious business I had stumbled on.
           BEFORE I LEFT FOR MY PAROLE OFFICER'S downtown who I told me the week before she was going to violate me the next time I came in, I better get my affairs in order.  The FEDS ain't nothing like the state. The last thing I did was throw a handful of BILL ME LATER'S in the mail on the corner by my house for subscriptions to The Wall Street Journal, Vanity Fair, and Rolling Stone and stuck a balloon inside a bunch of other balloons of Grade A pot and some matches and Striker up my ass. I knew it would take two months for the FEDS to come get me and this hillbilly jail and it wasn't going to be any fun unless I made it happen. I also knew I would never get away with it unless I did not tell anyone, and I didn't until it was almost gone. People made it back to where I was all the time with Pot and Crack and pretty much everything else. It lasted a few weeks.
           MANY NIGHTS I WAS in on the action and got taken out early and straight to sleep, I couldn't stay up all damn night, I got stuff I got to do....
I WISH YOU COULD have seen this woman! I could see from my window the parking lot of most of the guards who were overweight and showed up for work like they were going to Tupperware Party hauling buckets of greasy ass fatty food to sit on their ass behind a half inch security glass partition and try and stay awake eating junk food.
IN THE BEGINNING, when I stumbled upon this curious and odd behavior, I was the LEAD DOG Front & Center for the all night assault. You are not going to believe this either.
          FORTY-FIVE TO FIFTY feet of dead air she was kind of raised up above eye level but you could still see her from her waist up and after the horseplay with her fellow guards and most people were sleeping, she could turn her upper body in any direction and hold it for just a beat too long, and it was another bad man down. She had a rack under a military style shirt with the big pockets and flaps and barely contained all she had. I don't think she could have squeezed a Bic Pen in one of them pockets! Tired of sitting in the office swivel chair at about 4:36 minutes into here 10-6AM Shift, she sit side saddle on the edge of the desk fronted by low monitors of the hallway leading to where she was. With great fan fare she would lean forward to push a button that usually signaled an Intermission in the Midnight Matinee, and Oh, what a show she put on. You could tell this wasn't her first rodeo and she was getting good at it....
         ON SOME OF THEM nights I was finally convinced that Time and Distance or Space and Time intertwined, even fifty feet of plate glass and steel mesh security wire, something occurs between the real divinity of the human experience and bad as being in a southern hillbilly county jail is, I absolutely altered my belief in Humanity and Life itself after being serviced, and put to bed with a smile on my face, at the good thing I had found......
12:49 PM 12/3/2013

THE THROW DOWN by Mark Anthony Given

Copyright Mark Anthony Given 2014 All Right Reserved

The Throw Down by Mark Anthony Given

Join the Hunt Soon to be a Video Game

April 27, 2014 2:03 PM

11/19/2013 All Rights Reserved

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First ever video game and story outline created (coded) in its entirety

on @facebook and @twitter simultaneously


#thethrowdown @waitonit #waitonit
First ever video game and story outline created (coded) in its entirety
on @facebook and @twitter simultaneously

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