Carrying the rat carcass, pressure-filetted, he presented his posterior to the bars of a cell peopled by one lone insanity. Maximum Damage, a cartoon character of a man, a murderer and a dissector, too insane to be able to plead insanity, having no place in a lock-up where flesh was available in the guise of walking breathing men. Smelling skin, Maximum pounced, clanged the his head on the bars in the pitch dark black, Hasbad dropped the once rat onto his chest. Maximum woke and pretended it was alive while he ate it.

Evil like corn grows rustling in the hearts of men locked up together. Hasbad wanted to harvest it. He wanted to make it grow in clean lines, each evil untouched, unchoked by the others. And so he made a gift to Maximum. To keep him from eating another fresh meat still scared of the state's larger crime to balance the new meat's original own. To keep Galihad from trying to preserve the nobility of savagery, as he did when he beat Maximum blue whenever Maximum wolfed another cub. To keep the crows from picking at them, bits and pieces of evil in solitary confinement, revoked cigarette privileges, restricted acces to the telephones, the TV room, the exercise lounge, the walking yard.

Hasbad reached into a cell, the hair of a driver on a robbery that killed a mother of three, pulled him to the bars, whispered in his face.

Who fucked you today Johnny.

Ow fuck leggo Hasb'd.

Louder johnny with a lower-case j.

Ow fuck fuckin kill you Hasb'd.

Louder you candy-corn ass motherfucker.

Fuckin Hasb'd you want the boss down on here?

Was it Charles little johnny fuck ass bitch.

Season It was Season let me go God fucker.

The only person more evil than Season was Hasbad. Hasbad wiped the pissant driver's hair grease on the bars as he moved towards Season's cells. Season had three bitches, he kept them in three adjoining cells. If there was new meat, Season used his bitches to train the meat as bitches, and then sold the new bitches for better, natural bitches, or cigarettes, or throw downs with white boys. Season hated white boys so much he wouldn't touch them. But if a man wanted a bitch bad enough, he might kick ass for Season.

Hey Season.

Back in your cell, Hasbad.

Hey Season.

I'll tell the boss to shove that machine up against the wall, Hasbad.

Shit you will. That's new bitch training ground.

What do you want.

Make him go away, Seas, he scares me.

Shut up hush now be still Darlene. What Hasbad.

You got a throw down tomorrow on Hockey.

What are you saying Hasbad.

I'm saying johnny can't be broke no more.

Hasbad walked away. Threats work as well in between the cells as sand to stop an ocean. So don't make a threat, just carry it out anyway. Tomorrow at noon Hasbad would stop the throw down, let Hockey fuck up Season's boy. Then Season couldn't give the boy no bitch and Season would have to keep a close eye on his bitches or they might get their own throw down. So now he would have to leave johnny alone for a while. Then Hasbad would fuck Hockey up himself because Hockey was a punk who tried to keep the other punks in line. Prune the corn and it stops growing, fuck that.

Then Season might try to teach Hasbad a lesson, and so would Hockey, and maybe at the same time, and maybe a riot. Men fight over bitches and cigs and space in the lounge and the yard but they fight most over all over piecesof ass to throw down on. And maybe it was time to harvest this shit.

Hasbad walked back to johnny.

Motherfucker.

Fuck Hasb'd what.

You kill that bitch?

I told you no, I was just the driver.

From now on you killed that bitch.

I swear, I got parole in five, listen, I didn't even know they was carrying nothin Hasb'd.

Johnny with a capital J if he killed that bitch. Nobody bends a killer over, nobody.

What?

And maybe if you killed one of Season's bitches, everybody believe you about that bitch.

Fuck you Hasb'd Season hear you you talk too loud.

Next week you fuck up Hockey and take that bitch for yourself and fuck her and fucking kill her Johnny Capitol.

No fucking way I ain't no queen.

Hasbad slid the door open with a loud clang, starting off the night screams.

Fuck ah fuck, fuck hasb'd fuck how'd you open the door fuckin how.

Magic motherfucker. Hasbad grabbed Johnny by his nuts. You fuck or you be fucked. You kill or you be killed. And if you ain't killing everynight you getting killed everynight. And if your mind goes motherfucker I'll fuck you every night till you dead.

Ah shit I shit fuck Hasb'd fuck.

Johnny had something, Hasbad could see it. Just a little, way back there, a chip of gold flake on and old discarded broken plate. He enjoyed it. He enjoyed the hate when Season fucked with him and he enjoyed the piss when Hasbad squeezed his balls. He was going to enjoy killing Season's bitch and he was going to enjoy paiying for it. Hasbad knew it.

Get out outta my cell fucker, Hasbad said, tossing Johnny into the rows and slamming the door shut.

The lights popped on, Johnny was curled into ball in the middle if the floor. A loudspeaker loud enough to blare over 500 screaming psychopaths spat Johhny Grenna, Three Days Solitary. And two screws beat him for a while and dragged him off.

Hasbad was going to harvest this evil shit.