Jail sucked. I didn’t tell the worst story, though. About halfway through my stint, they had to transfer me to Scott County jail for some reason. Didn’t make sense. I had a week left. What sense did it make to move me to another jail 2 counties away? But they did it anyway. This lock-up, unlike my previous digs, required you to wear an orange one-piece jump suit with nothing on underneath. I had to strip down to nothing in front of all the jailers (including one woman) and try to squeeze into a too-small for fat-ass orange nightmare. On the day before my last day, I hopped out of my bunk (it was a dorm style set-up in this coop) and the seam ripped from my the top of my crack all way around to my balls. I asked the ‘concierge’ if they had another one, and he told me there was no point as I was going home the next day. The final humiliation came in the form of a ‘somewhat’ practical joke pulled on me by the other inmates in our cage that night. Everyday the food had been utter shit. But that night, my last, they served pizza! Sure, it was the rectangle kind served in your local indoctrination center, but I loved that shit! I ate my single piece like I’d never tasted pizza before! When I finished, I noticed that no one else was eating their’s. So I asked if I could have it. They all happily piled the pizza on my plastic lunch tray. I ate every piece. About an hour later my bowels let loose a fury that of which would keep me damn near glued in that bathroom all night. The other fella’s laughed and laughed! Fat ass hanging out of jumpsuit caked in mud! What could be funnier?