inmates

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.

DON’T PAY YOUR DEBTS

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

 

#1) SNITCH ON SOMEONE

Snitches get stitches…bitches!

If you tell, prison is hell.

 

#2) SIT IN THE WRONG SEAT

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.)

 

#3) DON’T PAY YOUR DEBTS

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.

 

#4) LOOK AT SOMEONE’S VISITOR

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.

 

#5) CO-SIGN A PIECE OF SHIT

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!

 

#6) SHAKE OUT YOUR BLANKETS FROM THE TOP TIER

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!

BEING TOO LOUD IN THE MORNING

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.