Before taking me to Floriana, they took me to the hospital. They wanted me to be seen by a doctor. I saw one. The only decent person I met that night. He asked me a few questions, to check if I was sane of mind. (Retrospectively, I should have acted as if I was crazy. They would have sent me to a psychiatric ward, which would have been a funny and interesting adventure.). The doctor checked my health. As everything was OK, we said goodbye, and the cops took me away to Floriana. But before taking me for another “roadtrip”, COP 455 looked at me with his best paternalistic look, and told me: “Listen, I am talking to you as a brother! You have a chance to go home, or to go to jail. It is your choice. It is your last opportunity!!”. He told me this with the voice of God talking to Moses, on Mount Sinai, when giving him the 10 commandments. I almost felt like kneeling in front of him.
He yells at me, he humiliats me, he puts me under stress, he kidnapps me for the night, he might charge me with whatever he wants, but then, he still has the audacity of pretending to be “my brother”. What a D**K, honestly!
So there I went to Floriana. It was already the third building I visited that night. Talk about feeling like a powerless pawn! That said, all the time I was without handcuffs, despite being under arrest. It felt strange, as if I was in the clutches of some banana republic (which in a sense is true).
There were two men and one ugly woman working the night shift. On my reception, they took my few possessions away. They started doing their paperwork, very slowly. They wanted me to sign something, but I refused. I don't even understand maltese, and I was afraid that I would unconsciously self-incriminate about something I didn't do.
There was some sheet on the booth, talking about my rights as a detainee. I asked them to have a copy of it, but they didn't accept.
One big, fat, brown-skinned guard (who can be recognized by a tatoo on his forearm) immediately started behaving as an idiot with me. Since I don't know his name, I will from now on call him Prick-Guard (PG).
He looked at me in an intimidating way (remember, the guy is strong, and I was half-naked, and so, vulnerable) and told me “So you think you are going to fuck with me?”. The guy had not seen me before, he didn't know me, I had not said anything to him, he didn't know what I was accused of, whether I was guilty of something or not, but still, his very first reflex was to dominate me. You know, just to show “who is boss”. That is what I call human garbage.
After this gentle “introduction”, he and another guard took me to another room for the most humiliating part of the night. Despite the fact that I only had my underwear, they made me dress down (they were probably afraid I would hide some explosives around my willie). Then, they asked me to bend down, to check my arse. Fortunately, they didn't put the finger inside. They would have found the long rifle I was hiding in it, that I could have use to escape from jail, if I wished so.
So, Prick-Guard, pathetic idiot, that is what you do for a living? Looking inside of other people's butts? And you still act as if you were some kind of “macho man”? It is a pity I didn't have a fart in stock for you that night. If you want a picture of my arse just email me, I will send it to you.
After all this pathetic comedy, I was put in a cell for the night.
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