“Nothing is Sacred in Prison…Not Even Your Soap”

That old saying is dead, you know, the one that refers to prison showers and just how “tightly for dear-life” one should clutch to that bar of Irish Spring.

“You better not drop the soap!”

Yep that’s a saying that should be executed on death row to make room for a new arrival, some fresh meat of sayings.

“You better not leave your soap unattended in the shower area, because some lowly disgusting specimen of life will certainly steal that shit.”

Last night began the saga just as this.

There was a soap dish; it had been left in the shower area/restroom for quite some time.


I saw it.

Everyone saw it.

Around 9PM, a Good Samaritan, of sorts, made an announcement to the housing unit.

“Hey! Someone left a soap dish in the bathroom with a big ol’ bar of soap in it. If it’s yours, you better come get it before it disappears”.

It wasn’t mine, so I didn’t care.

Shortly after that I went to sleep.

I woke up the next morning around 5:45am, in a half sleep-drunken state, I stumble like I’m on a ship being tossed around at sea to the restroom to brush my teeth, wash my face and piss.

This is me waking up.

Stumbling to the restroom I notice something, maybe it’s because I’m so awesomely perceptive that I have noticed this. Or, maybe it’s just because it’s so blatantly displayed on the privacy wall.

It’s the soap dish.

It’s empty.

Left desolate and victimized by some thievin’ bastard!

I’m not surprised.

Why? You might ask.

Because I know long before the Good Samaritan made his little announcement, this thieven bastard, whoever he is, has seen the soap dish. Then in his crack-addicted mind, the crack rocks began turning. He probably formulated a plan at some point to take the soap when the opportunity best arose.

How can I so bravely make this assumption?

Because I saw the soap dish, as did everyone else.

So, instead of asking someone like “hey man, I could really use a bar of soap because I don’t have much left.” Which if ever was the case, I’m sure someone would help the individual. Hell, even I would help them.

I know, I know, shocking right? Mr. Asinine here!

Yeah, even I have a heart…sometimes.

But do they do this? Do they ask? No. Of course not, instead, they wait for the most opportune time to strike. Most likely in the middle of the night, when they moseyed on over like a junkie with a sawzall ready to cut off the catalytic converter from your cars muffler to go sell for some crack.

Or maybe it was some Italian job type shit. Whatever the case, they abducted the soap. An abduction that wouldn’t end well neither.

This soap will surely never be seen again. That was made evident by taking only the soap and leaving the soap dish.

Then again, maybe that wasn’t a boundary they were ready to cross yet. Like “hey, I’ll take the soap, but the soap DISH? C’mon! What kind of D-BAG do you think I am!?!

I fear next time the soap dish won’t far so well as “the unsubs sense of desperation has escalated. He now feels the need to take the soap holster as well.”

For fuck sake…I have been watching way too many rerun episodes of Criminal Minds. Image


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