“The story of Crazy chick”

I was transferred to this prison on April 9th 2013, and up until this point I didn’t have ANY support from anyone “outside”. But this new prison was located “smack-dab” in the middle of an area I had spent a great deal of my life. So, I knew a few of the guys here.

Getting here it was like a high school reunion.

Like “oh hey…looks like you haven’t amounted to shit in life either, great to see you!”

It was through one of the guys that I met “Crazy chick”, as you will soon learn this was a well earned name for her, too.

Crazy chick was a friend of some chick who was writing my buddy “Slapsdabass,” pronounced “Slaps-da-bass.”

Like a bass guitar because he plays the bass…it’s all I could think to call him.

So, Slapsdabass tells me the chick he’s writing has a friend that I could write. Then he asked me if I’d like to write her.

In a very non-chalant, cool way, I responded.


Yeah, it’s like I said…


He gave me her address and we exchanged (1) letter before she said she wanted to visit me.

“Cool”, I thought. “Maybe she’s hot!”

Slapsdabass took a shit on my fantasy and told me that in fact she was not hot.

He’d been informed by the chick he was writing, her best friend…she mildly resembled a “wilderbeast”.

Now that’s a GREAT way to describe your best friend, don’t cha think?

“Whatever:, I thought.

Were looks really that important anyways!?! I was lonely. So, some MUCH NEEDED female companionship would be great after so many years without it.

Even if she did look like a wilderbeast!

The first visit came and on the day, me and slapdabass went to the visitation room together. Upon entering, Slapdabass saw “his chick”, so we both went over to where she was seated.

I introduced myself.

While doing so, I thought to myself “Jesus! This chick looks like a TROLL! How the hell could she say ANYTHING about her friend!?!”

Then I thought “Holy Shit! If she looks THIS bad…then her friend…OHMYGOD!!”

“Troll” tells me that her friend is in the gym, which is the overflow from the visitation room.

I said goodbye then moseyed over to the gym. As soon as I walked through the door, I saw her.

Her back was to me, but I knew it was her…it had to be.

Her hair looked as if it had never been cut, nor combed, and her head…it was as big as a 5 gallon water cooler.

I got to where she was seated and asked if she was Crazy chick.

She said she was.

As I faced her, she had the craziest look in her eyes, like she might try and kill me someday.

She looked as if she could have played in the “Devils Rejects”.

I’m describing her as “nice” as I possibly can here, too.

I sat down and (I swear to you) the first thing she said to me was “I’ve for 2 money orders for you right now, but I haven’t sent them yet because I don’t know how much money you can have on your books.”

‘What the hell?” I thought to myself, who the hell starts a conversation off like this, especially with a complete stranger?

“Well, how much are they for? I asked.

“25 dollars each” she said.

“Shit”. I said. “I can have WAY more than that.”

As asinine as that sounds, that was how the first conversation we ever had started.

Trying to get my mind off the fact this chick might be a complete PSYCHOPATH, I remembered how in the only letter she had wrote me thus far, she mentioned she had a son and daughter. Her son, she had mentioned was in “juvenile locked-up”.

“Your son is getting in trouble.” I said. “Maybe I could be something of a mentor to him.”

“He could see my situation and maybe that would help him realize he needs to get his shit together before he ends up a loser like me.”

“What was he locked up for anyways?” I asked.

Like it wasn’t even a big deal she responded.

“Oh” she said. “He raped his 11 year old sister.”

“Jes-sus Christ.” I thought to myself. What the hell have I gotten myself into!?!

I tried playing it cool, I tried to not focus so much that this chick just told me her 15 year old son committed rape and incest.

Again, who the hell tells somebody they don’t know this type of shit?

But before I could really process what she had just told me, she dropped another bomb shell on me. I guess she just wanted to lay all the cards out on the table in the beginning.

She told me that she was into “parties”.

“What the hell does that mean?” I asked.

“You know,” she said. “Like orgies…and group sex with lots of people.”


I won’t even lie. “This I was interested in, even if she was an ogre with a 5 gallon water cooler head. I mean there I was just some douchebag (hey…even I’m not above the process) who had been locked up for 4 years at that point…and we were talking about sex for God’s sake!

Freaky…Nasty…Kinky Sex!

I was good with that.

That first visit ended, and time passed we remained “friendly”.

Well, actually I remained friendly, Crazy chick was just starting to really earn her name.

First, she wanted a relationship, or more of a husband.

Another one!

She told me how she had already been married three times and how if she got married again… I thought I could finish what she was trying to ay.

“Yeah, yeah”, I said. “It’s got to be forever, right?”

“Oh, no”, she said. “If he tries to leave me…I’ll kill him.”

Honestly, I believed her when she said this.

Then she got it inside her screwed up head that we were going to “be-together”, and proceeded to fall “ass over the kettle” for me.

Now I know what some of you might be thinking “you jackass! You probably led her on because you’re an utter piece of shit.”

Yes, thank you!

I am a utter piece of shit. This I do know. But if I did in any way lead this chick on.” I then quickly tried to lay my cards on the table.

I told her falling for me most certainly was NOT a good idea. And in reference to “us being together”, I may have put it similar to this.

“Wait a minute; you think we’re going to be together, AS A COUPLE….HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

I then told her there wasn’t a snowballs chance in HELL that was EVER going to happen.

Harsh? Yes!

Am I an ass for that? Maybe!

But you just have to see my side of this thing, this chick just wasn’t getting it any other kind of way.

Plus, to my defense, I tried to be a friend to her if nothing else.

As a little more time passed…

Wait hold on for a second, I have to throw this in here too.

As you’re reading this, keep in mind…my entire dealings with Crazy chick only was for 1 month.

Ok, back to the story…

As a little more time passed, I began to realize that Crazy chick was a compulsive liar. Actually, almost EVERYTHING she told me ended up being a lie.

The only good thing she ever told me about, the sex parties…a lie.

The worst thing she ever told me about her “child-predator-child”…of course, that had to be the only thing she ever told me that wasn’t a lie.

Major warning bells were already going off at this point. It was already way passed time for me to ‘eject’ from this “plane crash in the making”, at “full steam”… Well then, July 4th 2013 I knew it was time to pull the plug.

So… on July 4th 2013, I got a “surprise” visit from Crazy chick.

Even though it was a surprise visit, I knew I would be walking into the visitation room to see no other than “water cooler head”. But I could never have imagined in a million years, I would walk in and see what I saw.

I walked into the visitation room and instantly saw her, there she was no fucking way I could miss her.

Our eyes met and the first thing I said was “Holy fucking mother fucker, what the FUCK happened to you!?!”

The ENITRE side of her face was BLEEDING!


I sat down in complete disbelief.

It looked like she had just gotten in a fight in the parking lot. Or more so, she just got the “shit kicked” out of her out there.

As people stared at the “trauma victim” who sat across from me, again I asked “What the hell happen”?

Unfazed by the blood still trickling down her face, she got all crazy eyes for me. Then responded “Oh, this, I wasn’t paying attention and I tripped and fell in the parking lot.”

“MY GOD!” I said. It doesn’t even look like you tried to catch yourself!”

“Did you land completely on your face!?!” I asked.

She told me that indeed she had.

I guess before she came in, the staff tried to call an ambulance for her, but she refused medical attention. To me, this was crazy because she looked like she REALLY needed it.

Staff then gave her a few bandages, but she did little to mask the fact she looked like she just had gone HEADFIRST through a WINDSHEILD of a car.

During visit, we can take pictures with our visitor if we’ve first purchased “picture tickets” from the commissary.

When Crazy chick would come to see me, I would always make up an excuse why “we”couldn’t take a picture anytime she asked me to. I would say something like “I forgot to get a ticket.” Or “That guy who is taking the pictures takes really fuzzy ones, maybe next time.”

Her face was the excuse this time.

During that visit, I remember a few of the thoughts that crossed my mind like, “this chick looks like she could have “starred” in the movie “Misery”, and “I can’t tell if she is giving me crazy eyes right now or if she has a concussion.”

When the visit ended, I could finally breathe somewhat of a sign of relief.

There has been no other time EVER where I wanted a visit to end so badly.

I hate to feel like people are staring at me, like some sort of spectacle for their amusement. Well, during that visit, they didn’t just stare.

They gawked.

My visitor was probably “trending” pretty heavy that day in visitation. To this day, I still haven’t lived that down, either.

Officers who were there that day still joke me, saying shit like “hey man! Why’d you beat that girl that day in visitation?”

HAHA funny!

You dicks!

My buddies will often come up to me with guys who don’t know the story and ask me to recount the tale of that “freak show visit” like it’s some story around the campfire.

After that visit, I realized that even trying to maintain a simple friendship with Crazy chick would be “unhealthy”. So I did the respectable “stand up guy” type of thing…

I passed her off to my buddy, Jimmy.Image Image


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