It all started with a single lay off. A man who has made his amends and confessed his sins just happened to be the first. His name was Melvin Conan, he was a priest for those who have been locked up in the county jails. Some religious church, rare nowadays considering that they are teaching raping, murduring, stealing, lying, abusing convicts the preachings of the bible.
I know what you’re thinking, what did he do wrong? He seams like he was good guy. What would drive a person like you to murder a man like this? He did nothing wrong. When I met him, he was a happy go lucky guy. His smile lit up like the bright moon. He has changed many convicts into ticky-tacky, tie-wearing Wal-Mart owners. These men used to find fun in cupping a feel on some poor old woman, now they find fun in collecting stamps and playing raquet ball. Yes, Conan was truley a work of god.
But he pleaded like a bitch.
I’ve always wondered what it feels like to kill a man. To see his eyes grab and shake you like a tickle me Elmo. The feel of the blade slicing cleanly through
the chest.
That sound.
I tremble every time I think about the sound of a knife piercing through a pleading soul. I can’t describe it. I can’t say what it sounds like, nothing compares. It is really surprising how easy a blade can meet the heart.
Well anyways, back to Conan.
Back when I had left college, I was deeply unsatisfied. I went to Colorado University. I left there with a Law Enforsement degree under my belt. College had the reputation to be the best time in a person’s life. My four years wasn’t that simple. I never talked to anybody, not even my roommate. All I did was study away all of my self respect. All I had was frustration that college wasn’t taken as seriously as it should be. All there was were parties and sex, both of which are unapealing to me. Those four years felt like fourty years.
When I graduated, my law enforcement fellow classmates all got job offerings. All except for me. It struck me as unfair that these potheads can get some of the finest police work in the state while I was left buried in the sand, unnoticed. I needed a job. The only one that was hiring was an oversized district jail. I was interviewing for a security job.
Pathetic.
“Name?”
“Arthor Gibson”
“Tell me Arthor, why do you want to work here at Molching State Prision?”
“Im not gonna lie to you sir. When I graduated, all of the police departments and high profile security jobs had been filled before I even got a chance to turn in my resume. It seams that I’ve looked everywhere for a job where I can fill in my duties. This prision is my last
choice. To sum it up for you Mister…”
“Cronkite”
“So to sum it up for you Mister Cronkite, I’m only interviewing for this job becuse I have to.”
His reaction was priceless, I had answered his bullshit question with complete and utter honesty. How else could I put it, I’m not a good liar. The strange thing is, I got the job.
So there I was, laminated security pass stapled on my left pocket as if it were a badge. This is a joke. I should be putting these guys behiend bars, not watching them. It was official, I was the joke of law enforcement. At least I’m not a security guard at some high school, now THAT would be bad.
My first day was exsactly what I expected, a complete waste of my time. Nothing really happened. On the yard, men were doing pull ups on the basketball rim. In the cafeteria, the men ate their mystery slop. One of them threw up their tray in discust. It was too facinating just to make a scene out of it, so I pretended not to notice. In the cells, people banged on the windows trying to heckle me, the new guard in town. They called me a “shit picker”. Catchy, isn’t it?
The only man who would talk to me as a friend was a man named Conan. He was the only man respected by all of the inmates. Each day, he would walk by each and every cell to check on the prisioners. All of them would treat him to a warm greeting. Conan had the reputation for having the inmates’ backs. “Priest Conan” they would say. I’m not one for religion but this man knew everybody all too well. He doesn’t care about how you got to prision, he just cares how to fix it.
When inmates get released in to the free world, it comes to a shock to them that they are once again free and can do whatever they wanted. Most of the inmates end back behiend bars. Priest Conan changed that. He tought a philosophy that was supposed to change people.
“It’s all about the little things,” he explained, “it doesn’t matter what god you believe in, it just matters how close you are to god. Think about this: Inmate gets his pillow torn apart from a full room inspection. His cellmate has a single pillow in perfect shape. He decided to give his pillow to the cellmate. That’s what I’m talking about. God sees good in all people, it’s my job to bring it out”
Back to basics. Enjoy the little things. My mother always said shit like that. Then again, who’s didn’t? Maybe some of these prisioners never had a vision to look up to, a parent to tell you to clean up after yourself and treat people the way you want to be treated. I guess Priest Conan is that vision. Conan is a new light to these people. I never thought anybody could change, until now.
The second day, the third day, the whole week went on exsactly as the first. I watched Conan from a distance, admiring his will and trust for the inmates. Why couldn’t everybody be more like him? For the first week, things didn’t look so bad. I was surrounded by great people at an interesting place.
The second week of patroling kicked off on a good note. I was ordered to act as the supervisor for Conan’s lectures. I could barely keep my attitude professional as I walked into a classroom containing Priest Conan. The Priest began talking before I could shake his hand.
“Mr. Gibson, I heard you are going to be monitering the attendees while I conduct my ceremony. It’s a pleasure Mr. Gibson.”
I quickly responed, “of course, Priest. Any time.” My tone was akward as I continued, “I hear about your work and I am marvaled by it. You are a true piece of work, Priest Conan. I admire you for that.”
Conan smiled, “why thank you, Arthor. That means a lot.”
Then went an uncomphortable silence that went on for about thirty seconds, though it felt like thirty minutes. The room was heavy, I had to break the silence.
“So Mr. Conan, do you have any kids?”
He then gave me a look as if he was glad I asked that question. Conan began, “well yes I do. He just graduated college with a law enforcement degree. He landed a huge gig at the Denver Metro Police Department. His name is Rodger Conan and he is the best son a man could have.”
I paniked. Rodger Conan? That unholy, drunk bullshit artist of a student? How could a kind soul like Melvin raise such a poser like Rodger. It just doesn’t make sense. My feelings for this man changed from thankful to royally pissed.
I smiled. Damn, that smile hurt. I could not come up with a more fake smile. Conan then proceeded to bend over for a stack of papers. I found the duct tabe on his desk.
Some may say I overreacted but, my consence wasn’t needed at the moment. I just let my body do all the talking.
I ripped off a piece of duct tape and swung it around his mouth. The movement was so automatic, it couldn’t be stopped. I sat on top of him, took the charity jar and broke it in to pieces. One of the pieces turned out to be a great, long blade.
I proceeded with some preachings of my own. “I thought you were a good man, Conan. Shit, you tought Rodger how to be a total dickless piece of shit. What goes around comes around.”
My striking arm swung forward until there were no sounds left except the sound of a crying heart. It weeped blood like a sinned angel. I sat there for a moment, soaking up all the tears of blood.
It suddenly struck me. Holy shit! I just killed a man! Nobody saw except for god himself. I never wanted to frame anybody. I’ll just say I walked in on Conan like this.
I shattered the murder weapen and proceeded to sprint to the neerest office. It all happened too fast. I needed more time but that just wasn’t an option right now.
I barged into a doorway to a collected meeting, all focus towards me. I panted, “Conan! It’s Conan! He’s been stabbed!”
