The Shit Bandit, Caught!

Jeff is a 37 year old bathroom porter serving 18 years for 2 counts of First Degree Assault. In prison he has done very little to change his thinking. He’s been down for 10 years and he still cusses out the Correction Officers (C/O), does drugs, tattoos, fights…all that.

One day he’s working. Scrubbing showers. He gets to the third shower and notices that someone shot diarrhea ALL over the white tile.

The second he see’s it, his face frowns. He quickly turns away.

He goes to a C/O. Most of the C/O’s don’t like him. He’s rude and disrespectful. With a hostile attitude, he says he’s NOT cleaning it up.

The C/O contacts the shift Sergeant. The Sergeant says, “Clean it up or you’re fired.”

Ten minutes later, Jeff is wiping smelly do-do off the shower wall.

He’s hot!

Later that day he waits for the C/O to leave the pod. Then he makes an announcement, “Whoever is spraying chunky soup from their anal all over the shower wall, is a no good dirty rotten (BEEP BEEP BEEP)!!! If I catch who’s doing it, I’m gonna smash your face in a toilet!”

The dayroom went silent. Everyone just stared at Jeff. He then walked ten feet to his cell. Went in. And slammed the door.

A few weeks later, someone did it again. But this time, not quite as much. It was only about a baker’s dozen quarter size spackles sprayed in the diameter of one square foot. An easy clean.

But Jeff did not see it that way. He flipped! He marched straight to the Sergeant office and said, “Listen you fat son of a bitch. I know you’re gonna fire me. So screw you! One of your punks (see Prison Glossary) crapped in the shower again.”

The Sergeant stands up as he presses the “panic button” on his radio. He says, “Well this time I’m not having you threaten the whole dayroom.”

Jeff spats, “The rat who told you that is probably the one crapping his pants all over.”

Within seconds, five officers respond to the panic button. They cuff him up and take him to the hole. The reason: Threatening.

Eighteen days later, here come Jeff. Right back to the same ol bunk. The only difference: He now doesn’t have a job.

Fast forward thirteen days. Jeff is sitting in the dayroom playing Pinochle. Someone says, “Look, look, look” as he nods towards Scott.

Scott (a 58 year old Chi Mo) is speed walking to the bathroom in his shorts. Diarrhea is running down his leg. It’s dripping all over the floor. He leaves a trail from his cell to the bathroom. The same bathroom Jeff used to clean.

Jeff follows Scott. Scott goes into the toilet stall and latches it shut. He has no idea Jeff is stalking him.

As Scott rinses off using toilet water, Jeff waits. He can hear him splashing around and flushing.

The second Scott un-latches the stall door, Jeff rushes in. Scott is no match for Jeff. Jeff grabs him by the hair with both hands. Scott screams as Jeff forcefully drives Scott’s face deep into the toilet bowl.

Scott’s arms and legs are flailing all over the place. But to no avail. Jeff firmly has a handle on the situation. Once the bubbles stop, Jeff pulls Scott’s head outta the water. He says, “I told you what I’d do if I caught you.”

Then he plunged Scotts face back into the toilet water. This time the bubbles were bloody. Jeff broke Scott’s nose on the bottom of the toilet bowl.

The second Jeff saw blood, he let go. Then he calmly walked back to the Pinochle table and resumed his game.

Everyone in the dayroom knew something just happened, but they didn’t know what. Then Scott walks out of the bathroom. He’s soaking wet. He’s holding his nose with both hands. He’s hunched over. He looks dazed and confused. The front of his white t-shirt is covered with blood. Then all of a sudden, he collapses.

Everyone in the dayroom is trippin! Someone says to Jeff, “What the f**k did you do to him?”

Jeff nonchalantly replies, “I smashed his head in the toilet…just like I said I’d do.”

The C/O returns to the pod. He see’s Scott on the floor and immediately hits the panic button.

The entire pod is put on lockdown. Medical cones. Off goes Scott on a stretcher. Everyone is looking out their window.

Cops, Sergeant, and counselors are everywhere. They all huddle up for a pow-wow. Then, six of them walk directly to Jeff’s cell. They cuff him up and take him to the hole. Reason: Assault.

Moral of the story: Don’t shit in the shower. If you do…clean it up!


Here is another story that is very similar. It’s a testament to the redundancy of prison life.

The Crapping Bandit Finally Exposed


Mushrooms: The Cash Crop

By Pete

Stafford Creek Corrections Center is located in the Great North West. I lived in this area my entire life.

I am good at two things. Running around in the woods naked. And cultivating sychadellic mushrooms.

Lucky for me, prison has only robbed me of one of these things.

Cultivating a spore comes very naturally to me. Maybe because of my extreme laziness. Or maybe because I love to grow stuff that gets me high. Either, or…growing spores is very easy. So easy, I was able to do it in prison.

Thus begins the Great Mushroom Caper at SCCC. Quite by accident and not absolutely on purpose, I found myself in quite the little situation.

After spending two years in this shit hole in the woods, I began to notice a few things.

First, I was getting very fed up. Somehow I landed in this prison that somehow landed smack dab in the middle of the woods I used to roam. Naked. I live about 10 minutes from this place. I know every dear trail and loggin road in this area.

Second, I realized I was working 240 hours a month out in the garden green house for $55 a month! Not to mention the prison takes 60% of that!

Combine those two revelations with the fact that I don’t give a fuck, and well…you’re about to see what happens.

After two years of working in the green house, I developed a good working relationship with the guard in charge of that area. I would do all the work. He would sit on his ass and get fat. I didn’t bother him. He didn’t bother me.

One day after work I was out in the yard roaming around. My heart skipped a beat when I looked down and saw three Stunzie Mushrooms growing in the grass. I stood at a crossroad as I looked around. I could eat these fully sychadellic fully enjoyable mushrooms, or I could pick them, smuggle them to work, and watch them expand like a motherfucker! Yeah…I’ll do that!

The next day at work, I smashed bits and pieces of the mushrooms into the dirt between the cucumber and squash plants.

Within two days I had a nice patch of shrooms. I picked ‘em. Dried ‘em. And made powder. I spread the powder up and down three rows of cucumber and squash. Thirty feet long, sixteen inched wide. That was on a Friday. Without completely understanding what I had just done, I returned to my unit for the weekend.

Monday morning rolls around and for the first time ever, I’m excited to go back to work. I go back to my area and I can’t believe my eyes. Mushrooms were everywhere. I mean EVERYWHERE!!! All I could see was dollar signs.

I immediately devised a multi person process. Always a scary thing because you never know who might tell. But I had to. I needed help with my new-found cash crop. I had to get these things out of the green house and back to my cell.

My buddy Jason works on the trash crew. All trash cans are marked by a unit. That means all trash cans return to the unit they came from. Pretty stupid really! All this does is allow inmates, like me and Jason, to smuggle things from the Correctional Industries area back to the living units.

Back at the unit, my celly was already waiting for the trash cans to roll in. So far, so good. When the time was right, he quickly retrieved a large trash bag that was 1/3 full of sychadellic shrooms!

By the time I came home from work, he was high as a kite laying on his bed. TRIPPIN!

I was high too. I kept a little stash out in the green house just for me. We spent a good 5 minutes just laughing for no reason other than we just pulled off one of the biggest moves in DOC history!

I asked him, “Where they at?”

He gets up. He pulls his blanket back. There they are! All smashed into his sheets and the blanket. We start busting up again! This fool dumped all the shrooms on his bed and then covered them with a blanket. Genius!!

For the next several hours we dried the shrooms with more sheets and two fans. Meanwhile, we went around and collected as many Shiitake Dried Mushroom packs as we could. DOC sells those. They’re legal. We only managed to scrounge up 6 empty bags. It’s a start.

The next day at work, I had Jason comb through the facility trash. He was high as a kite and on a mission: TO GET ALL EMPLY MUSHROOM BAGS.

That day when the trash cans came back to the unit, my celly was waiting. This time he retrieved 87 empty mushroom bags.

By the time I came home from work, he had them all bagged up. We had 76 3oz. bags of highly hallusigenic mushrooms! A street value of $36,480.

A prison value of over$250,000! Incredible!

Before I could sell one single bag I had two guards kicking in my cell.

Somebody ratted me out!

Because of the amount they found, they charged me with a felony.

Now here I sit in the hole facing another 6 years.

Damn it! I should’ve just ate those three little Stunzies growing in the grass.


Gambling is huge in prison. Convicts will bet on anything, such as: professional sports, prison sports, or how long it’ll take before a sex offender gets his ass beat. The most common way to get in debt is playing cards. Specifically: Poker, Spades, or Pinochle. And the most dangerous type of debt is a drug debt. 

Scott is serving 16 years for manufacturing meth. While in prison, he enjoys shooting meth and heroin. He pays for the drugs with the $100 a month he gets from his grandma. Unfortunately, $100 only keeps him high for 2 days. But Scott has a plan. He’ll extend his line of credit and rack up debts.

Before he knows it, he owes $800, and the month is only half over. “Aw what the hell” he thinks, “My sister would send me $100 if I ask.” So Scott goes and gets more drugs.

The drug dealer questions him, “Your in for $900, how are you able to pay so much?”

Scott lies, “I’m getting my income tax return…I have money.” The debt grows.

When it comes time to pay, Scott is way short. He lies and gives drag. He buys more time. He presses his grandma and sister for more money. They’re tired of his shit and cut him off completely. It’s soon evident that Scott can’t pay. It’s soon evident that Scott needs his ass kicked.

One day Scott is walking down the tier when someone grabs him by the hair and yanks him in a cell. The beat down is on! And it’s only the beginning for Scott.

To learn the entire conclusion of Scott’s situation, you’ll have to read “Stone City…Life In The Penitentiary” chapters 7-10.

Moral of the story: Don’t do drugs. Don’t rack up debt. Don’t gamble. Especially while in prison!


Steven Jennings


6 Ways To Get Your Ass Kicked In Prison



Snitches get stitches…bitches!

If you tell, prison is hell.



Convicts want to control as much as they can. In the chow hall everyone sits in the same seat every day. If you’re new, this could be a problem. Sit in the wrong seat and that could be reason enough to get your ass kicked.

(After decades of seat related issues, DOC finally implemented assigned seating. DOC is much safer because of it. Thank you DOC.)



Gambling is huge in prison. So are drug debts. If you wanna shoot heroin, snort meth, pop pills, and smoke a joint before you bet on professional sports, dominoes, cards, and dice, well then you better have a fat bank roll. Pay up or get beat down.



Keep your eyes on your own. If you get caught looking at someone’s visitor, whether it’s their mom, sister, grandma, whoever, and you could end up looking at someone’s boots up side your face back at the cell block.



If you say he’s an alright dude and he turns out to be a rat or a sex offender, guess who gets beat up along the way? YOU!



All that dead skin, hair, and lint has to land somewhere. And it’s usually in front of someone’s cell. Mad Dog Killer ain’t going for it. Mop that shit up, or get mopped up. The choice is yours!


Some people just wake up in a bad mood. Especially in prison. So if your celly is a violent felon, you better beware of the things that’ll set him off.

As Tommy wakes up to a new day, he sits up in his bunk. He stretch’s out his arms and yawns. The yawn turns into a moan. The moan turns into a growl.

Then all of a sudden Tommy hears, “Jesus fucking Christ! Are you serious!? Every god damn morning I have to wake up to that bullshit1?” That was Tommy’s celly. His name is Jerry. I shit you not. Tom and Jerry are cellies.

Tom is a sawed off heavy weight who stands 5’7” and weighs 260 lbs. He’s stocky muscle with a decent layer of fat, but by no means is he fat. Jerry stands about 6’1” and weighs 165 lbs. And he has a smart ass mouth.

So Tommy jumps down from his bunk and with one continuous motion he rips Jerry outta his bunk. As Jerry hits the floor, Tommy pins him against the wall then drops both knees on his chest and stomach. The impact knocks the wind outta Jerry. Tommy presses his face against Jerry’s face and asks, “Would you rather I wake you up to this instead?”

Jerry was still trying to catch his breath as he lay flat on his back. Tommy stood up and placed his foot on Jerry’s neck. Then Tommy said, “Listen you stupid mother fucker, I know your in prison for rape. You like to victimize women, huh? And now you’re starting to cuss at me!? I don’t think so!”

Jerry grips Tommy’s foot with both hands to relieve some of the pressure. He struggles a bit, then grunts out the words, “Let me up!”

Tommy presses hard on his neck…”Shut up you bitch!”

It’s still early. Tommy is in his boxers and he has to piss like a race horse. He pulls out his penis and pisses all over Jerry’s face. He screams as the piss burns his eyes.

“Shut the fuck up you rapist before I stomp your face in.”

Jerry is weak and in a haze due to a lack of blood flow to his brain. He’s on the verge of passing out. That’s when Tommy reaches over onto Tommy’s bunk and pulls his blankets onto the piss soaked floor.

Tommy barks, “Clean yourself up…and wipe up the floor too…boy!”

Jerry slowly rises to his feet as he wipes the floor. The second Tommy turns his back, Jerry rushes him. Jerry side steps him as he smashes his elbow onto Jerry’s face. He falls to the ground, knocked out cold. The impact cracks open his head. Blood flows and mixes with the piss. Tommy gets nauseous and passes out. As he falls to the floor, his face lands in the area of Jerry’s cock and balls.

Just then a guard walks by. It looks bad. It is bad.

They both go to the hole. Two days later Tommy gets an infraction. It says he knocked out Jerry with sexual intent. Tommy is found guilty of this bogus infraction. He spends 16 months in the hole.

After that 16 months, Tommy is released to general population. They put him in a cell with a homosexual named Frank. The very first thing Frank says to Tommy is, “You don’t have to knock me out to suck this.” Then Frank pulls out his cock. Tommy snaps! He kicks Frank square in the nuts so hard that they both rupture. Frank is rushed to the ER. Tommy goes back to the hole. This time for 32 months!

Moral of the story: Just be kind to people. The law of attraction is one that will not error.


Keep your eyes on your own. If you get caught looking at someone’s visitor, whether it’s their mom, sister, grandma, wife, girlfriend, whoever, and you could end up looking at some boots upside your face back in the cell block.

Bruce is a nice young fellow serving 14 years for second degree murder. All through his school years he played sports and had lots of friends.

One night he went to a party with friends. This was a high school party, so everyone there ranged from 15-18 years old. Bruce was 17. The party was going good, everyone was laughing and having fun. Then it happened. Eight football players from the rival high school walked in. They were loud, rude, and disrespectful. When asked to leave, they refused.

Push come to shove and a brawl broke out. Most people ran. Within seconds, Bruce and his six buddies were getting man handled by the bullies. Bruce panicked. He ran to the kitchen and grabbed a random kitchen knife. He had no intention of using the knife. He just wanted to break up the brawl and persuade the bullies to leave. It didn’t work out. One of the bullies attacked Bruce. Bruce stabbed him. The stab wound was fatal.

Two years into a 14 year sentence, Bruce was enjoying a nice visit from his mom and sister. As the conversation flowed and the mood was light, his sister leaned in close and said, “That creepy guy keeps looking at me.”

Bruce turned his head and saw exactly who she was talking about. It was 37 year old Ray Ray. A known sex offender. Bruce turned his chair, then pointed his finger directly at Ray Ray and said, “That guy right there? That’s the guy who can’t keep his fucking eyes off my sister!” From that point forward, Bruce kept Ray Ray in his sight. The mood shifted. Tension could be felt. Bruce was pissed!

After the visit, Bruce confronted Ray Ray.

“Why were you staring at my sister!” he demanded!

“I wasn’t.”

“I saw you. Don’t fucking lie to me.”

“I’m not lying. I wasn’t looking at her.”

Bruce snapped! Talk time was over. Bruce kicked Ray Ray in the nuts without warning. Hard! As Ray Ray bent over in pain, Bruce grabbed him by the hair and kneed him in the face 3 times. Ray Ray fell to the floor. Bruce stomped on his face twice, then said, “Don’t you ever look at my sister again you piece of shit rapist.”

Moral of the story: It doesn’t matter what you’re in prison for. Don’t look at other peoples visitors. Period!

Make A Move On Someone’s Prison Bitch

If it ain’t yours, leave it alone. Jealousy is a motherfucker no matter where you’re at.

Back in the mid 90’s there was this punk running around Walla Walla. He went by the name Tiffany.

Tiffany was in a relationship with Shadow. Tiffany is white, Shadow is Mexican. For months the two lived together. Until one day administration broke up the two.

Tiffany got moved into a different cell. Inside his new cell lived Terry. Terry has been in prison for years and has several more to go.

It wasn’t long before Terry was butt-fucking Tiffany and making him suck his dick. Tiffany told Shadow. Shadow was pissed.

Shadow approached Terry out in the yard and said, “Hey man, Tiffany is my bitch. Leave her alone.”

Terry laughed and said, “Her? That punk has a dick bigger than yours.”

Shadow wasn’t laughing. “Just stay away from her, alright?”

Terry’s face got serious, “That punk is in my cell now. I’ll do whatever I want, whenever I want.”

Shadow pointed his finger at Terry’s face and said, “If you touch her one more time, we’re going to war.” Then Shadow walked away.

That night Terry butt-fucked Tiffany for hours. He was extra loud and abusive. Shadow could hear everything through the open bars. Everyone could hear. Everyone knew war was on the horizon.

The next day everyone was in the yard. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. On one side of the yard all the white boys gathered. And on the other side were all the Mexicans.

Shadow walked to the center of the yard as he called out Terry’s name. Terry emerged from the white crowd. The second the two got face to face, it was on and fists were flying. Shadow landed a solid punch, knocking Terry to the ground. As he tried to get to his feet, Shadow kicked him in the face knocking him out.

Shadow then proceeded to stomp on Terry’s head and neck. That’s when all the white boys came rushing in. That’s when all the Mexicans came rushing in. The whites were out numbered 3 to 1 as a massive brawl ensued.

The guards were going crazy up in the gun towers as they yelled “Break it up…get on the ground” through the PA system. The verbal command didn’t work. That’s when canisters of tear gas littered the yard. But the convicts continued to fight.

Gunshots ripped through the air as bullets thumped into the ground. This caused the convicts to scatter and find a place to lay face down. After about 4 minutes of mayhem, the brawl was under control.

Terry was beat the fuck up! The Mexicans easily fended off the white boys while Shadow continued to stomp out Terry.

Moral of the story: Keep your dick in your pants and don’t try to steal someone’s prison bitch.


-Steven Jennings