Monday, March 24, 2014
Barry Clifford: Tales From New York- Mad Bob (Part 3)
In prison Bobby was king of his castle which was his 6’x 10’ cell. He was left alone in there for the safety of other prisoners for Bobby only worked best in the company of women and the wardens wanted a quiet life for the pay was not that good to have it any other way. Bob mingled well in the mess hall and recreation area and was no trouble if you did not cause him any.
One of the prisoners he met there was sent down for life because he came home to his shared apartment one night and killed the other two that shared it with him because they were having sexual relations as he walked in. The canine was the first to die and the man quickly followed. Bob laughed hard telling this story and laughed even harder at what he was about to tell me.
There was this other inmate. He played Bobby’s only best friend for a while until he met his own ethnic group every time and then changed roles rather quickly, and too quickly, acting as if he did not know Bob. After Bobby checked himself for fleas in case that was the reason he was being ignored, he decided he was going to get Mexican Pete for this insult when he could not find any on him. He had a rather cunning plan.
Bob and Mexican Pete with another group got drunk one night on prison moonshine on a weekend when the rules were relaxed a bit and the cell doors were not on lock-down. Mexican Pete soon passed out. When he did, Bob and the others pulled his pants down and smeared Vaseline where the sun did not shine on him and did nothing else but wait, and wait until Mexican Pete woke up in the morning. His outraged screams woke the rest of them who had fallen asleep for he was convinced he had been raped while he had been asleep, and no one ever did tell that he was still a virgin before and afterwards. In between Bob’s lecherous laugh he told me that Mexican Pete never got uppity or strange with him or anyone else again.
As Bob was telling me these stories of happier times, I knew his love of cocaine was not in control and his paranoia was getting worse for he was armed like never before. He still carried a serrated blade strapped to his leg but now a Dillinger pistol in a cigarette box that held one bullet was carried with it. Added to this growing arsenal was a snubbed nose. 34 revolver and a magnum 45 that was always carried in his lunch bag. My nervousness grew with his paranoia.
To be continued........
By Barry Clifford