My Prison EscapeThey call me Sarge and I've been on the run for eight days, no food, little sleep, and the nights have been cold and damp. My belly is hugging my backbone, my eyes are so red I'm afraid they may glow in the dark and give me away, and I'm quite certain my left leg is frozen from the knee down. But, I would still rather be on the run than in that last place in which they locked me up. What a disgusting and horrible joint!We got food whenever the jailer decided it was convenient for him, and even then, if you didn't jump in and fight and snarl and get your share of the cold wet slop that passed for grub, you went hungry. Too many times I passed my share of the disgusting gruel over to a young mother and her five little ones.The hardest part, I think, was watching old friends take that last lonely stroll to the back room. We all knew what was going on, we're not as dumb as a lot of people think we are. It is sometimes called - dead man walking!A few days before I broke out to freedom, I watched my old friend Jake stroll quietly down that path to eternity. When our eyes met, I had to look the other way because what I saw in old Jake's eyes wasn't fear, but resignation, even joy. He had finally given up all hope for life and was truly ready for that final stroll.Looking back on it, I almost envy old Jake in a way. I well know the horror he's gone through; the horror we've all gone through, and I know for a fact that he's in a soft warm bed, with the finest food you can get, curled up next to his girlfriend Dolly; somewhere way up yonder - in heaven.We then watched in horror as all five of Little Mother's kids were dragged screaming and pleading for mercy toward that ugly room of death.The torture in our prison was unimaginable. Most of the inmates that came in were infested with vermin, half of them were sick, some had diseases that spread to the healthy inmates, and still others bore ugly scars from physical abuse and abnormal cruelty.I can't say all the jailers were bad, some of them honestly did care and tried their best to help us and treated us kindly. Problem was, there were very few of them and what they had to work with was might near to nothing.Another difficult time was on visiting day. Some of the inmates had relatives who came to see them and some of them even got out of jail on good behavior, but most of us had no one. Absolutely no one was interested in us. No one cared about how we were treated, no one gave a hoot about the back room and the ugly things that happened back there, and for the most part, they looked as if they were happy and relieved to see us safely locked up - or worse!Well, I finally decided to do something about my unacceptable situation. I tricked one of the nice jailers into trusting me and letting me out for a spell, then I hauled my old carcass out of there as fast as my feet could hit the road. And, I can tell you right now; I will never go back! I've spent my time in jail and then some.I guess I've traveled a good thirty or forty miles since my bold escape but home is just around the corner. You didn't think I had a home, did you? Well, I do and my friend Jimmy will take very good care of me like he did in the old days, if I can find him!Editor's note: Two weeks later Jimmy's mother found Old Sarge lying on top of Jimmy's grave. Jimmy had died several months earlier and; unable to take care of Jimmy's dog, she had tearfully placed him in the county animal shelter. You might say Sarge finally found his friend Jimmy or at least where Jimmy was buried. Rather than leave his friend and master, Old Sarge died silently waiting for Jimmy to come back for him.There is an old saying - if the price to enter heaven was trust and loyalty, there'd be a lot more dogs in heaven then people!
By Gene Ladnier [ 18/05/2006 ][ viewed 343 times ]
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