“All have sinned and fallen short of the Glory of God”
–Romans, 3:23
Bookey stood leaning against our cell wall peering down the corridor. I removed my pillow from its case and positioned it firmly over the toilet’s rim, attempting to make it airtight. Sitting on top of the pillow, I began to rock side to side. Suction inside caused the water to stir and recede. An empty toilet leaves an open sewage pipe, which is the perfect spot for us to blow our weed smoke. As soon as I stood, Bookey interlocked his fingers and knelt. I stepped in with my foot, and was quickly hoisted up to the highest point in our cell – the outlet vent. A single square of toilet tissue placed over the vent is the perfect watchdog. If any doors in the dormitory are opened, they’ll disturb the air flow and the tissue will fall. It was lockdown – and no inmate movement was allowed. My chores were done, so Bookey sprang into action.
If you gazed into our cell window at anytime, you would witness synchronized harmony. Every morning I woke up a little earlier than Bookey, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and retreated to read my Bible silently in the corner. Then Bookey would take the floor. Once released from lockdown, Bookey would take the coolers to the ice machine to be filled and put a meal together. I never asked what. I cleaned up.
I had a thing about neatness, he had a thing about food, and we both understood. Outside of the cell, on the prison yard, people knew what to expect. We had a phrase “two for one.” It sounds like a sales pitch, but it was a warning. Any conflict with one, you get the other.
A pencil snapped. I watched as Bookey removed the lead from what used to be a number two pencil with his teeth. He broke the lead into three pieces. Two went into the wall socket, one on each side. The other he wrapped in a small piece of tissue and laid it neatly on the table. The lead wrapped in toilet tissue will burst into flames when touched with the other pieces of lead. The prison cigarette lighter.
I removed a tiny bud of Marijuana from God’s greatest hiding spot, unpackaged it, and handed it to Bookey. He broke the stems and split every seed. The finer the grain, the smoother the smoke. I often dazed off at moments like this because Bookey was meticulous about how the weed was rolled. I didn’t care. With thirty years 85%, I just needed a release.
When I looked back at him, he was holding a tiny 4×3” brown leather Bible with gold lettering across the cover. New Testament, Psalms, Proverbs.
“I don’t got no papers”, he said. And I knew what he meant. Bible paper is very similar to rollin paper. Highly smokable.
Bookey handed me the Bible. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it himself – it didn’t matter to him. He handed it over because he knew how much it did matter to me. As I took the Bible in my hand for the first time, I felt the weight was off. I opened it to find the books Matthew and Mark missing. Parts of Psalms were gone too, along with my favorite piece of scripture, Romans 3:23.
I read out loud through the books and scriptures that caught my attention or I remembered the most, trying to decide what to remove. I finally settled on the last page of the Bible from the Book of Revelation. I never understood it much. I tore the page and passed it to my friend, holding the remainder of the Good Book in my hands.
Fire sparked as Bookey touched the lead wrapped in toilet tissue to the other pieces of lead. He lit the joint, inhaled deeply, then passed it to me. I put the scripture to my lips. As I drew the smoke deep into my lungs, I watched the word Behold give itself over to the fire and turn to ash. As we passed the joint back and forth, each taking our draws, it became apparent that it didn’t matter how much smoke we blew down the sewage pipe. Mary Jane is a loud lady and there’s no hiding it. If a guard passed by now, we’d be looking at ninety days in the hole for Dangerous Contraband.
I was so high.
I looked over at Bookey, his eyes red and almost shut, but I could tell he wanted to say somethin. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, thinking deeply. ”You ain’t never read the Bible to me until today.”
My eyes followed the path of a single square of toilet tissue as it floated through the air, falling soundless on the floor.
Bookey and I did do time in the hole, and then later got transferred to different institutions. Haven’t seen my friend in over 12 years. I hear things from time to time. “Bookey was in a riot” or “Bookey fucked this guy up.” I can’t wait to see him someday and pick up were we left off: Romans Chapter 3, verse 23.
“If anyone takes anything from the words of this scroll, God will take away his portion from the Tree of Life.”
–The final page in the Book of Revelation.
Andrew Phillips is serving 30 years in Kentucky for 1st degree robbery (for stealing marijuana from a dealer) and murder (for killing that dealer).
Andrew Phillips #167577
Northpoint Training Center
PO Box 479
Burgin, KY 40310
