TRANNY TIME

I have actually written over 50,000 words and am nearing the end of my prison book. Now comes the hard part: Finding an agent and/or publisher who gives a shit about me and my opus. I hesitate to publish the entire book on this blog for obvious reasons. But in the interest of giving my very few readers (at least here on this platform) something new, I offer the following as relevant material to not just the book - but the old Psycho Roundup blog which in part, landed me in the hoosgaw. 

When I was in the escort business, people would more than occasionally ask me where the authorities housed transsexual hookers when they got busted for selling ass. I wasn’t entirely sure of the answer at the time. But I can now tell you where they go in the federal system, because one of the first inmates I met upon entering MCC was a she male.

Reagan was not what the transsexual community would call passable. Laughable was more like it. Maybe on the outside with the usual smoke, mirrors, makeup and womanly garb, she would have been more attractive. But I doubt it. For me, Reagan was a monster through and through. From the first moment our eyes met, I made Reagan for a tranny hooker. And I was right. Later on in my stay, she admitted to selling her body and bragged that an Ecuadorian trick had purchased her tits at the not-overly-inflated price of 7 k. That Reagan was a she male hooker had nothing to do with why I disliked her. That she was a  dizzy, incompetent, back-stabbing snitch had more to do with it.

Reagan worked in the kitchen and was the darling of one of the female CO’s who ran the show. Often, she’d be invited into the officers’ bubble to hang out. I always found it inappropriate for CO’s to choose their favorites and allow them to hang out in that exalted area. But one female officer had a bad habit of choosing her favorites and inviting them to the inner sanctum. She also flirted flagrantly with inmates we all knew she fancied.

Miss Thing (the tranny one) committed three acts to turn me against her. First, Reagan told her female buddy (the CO) I was selling the food I was given in the kitchen rather than eating it myself. Really, bitch? Reagan was not only selling the food she herself was given - but stealing food and not just selling it in our unit - but sneaking it upstairs to other units in the food carts. When Carter went home, she'd amassed $6000 on her books by the time she left the prison. Trust me, you have to do a lot of stealing to earn 6 k on the kitchen job. Reagan had a lot of nerve dimeing me out when she herself was doing a landmark business selling food she stole - and wasn't just given.

Even though she was supposed to be a mainstay in the kitchen, Reagan didn’t really know the kitchen jobs all that well. Early in my kitchen employment, she was tasked with opening cans of vegetables. But Reagan didn’t turn the crank 360 degrees and left the lids attached. I was new and didn’t understand the error. All I knew was it was my job to rinse and bag the cans. Which I did until somebody yelled at me for fucking up: “You have to remove the lids on those cans, inmate!” Really? How the fuck am I supposed to know that? How’s about you blame the chick with the dick who's been down here for months and still doesn't know how to open the cans? I took the weight for Reagan.

Miraculously, there was a Chinese cook in the kitchen (and living in my unit) who read my blog religiously when he was on the outside - and patronized my customers habitually as well. When he saw me come into the prison, Wang couldn’t believe his eyes (he told me this later). Fit to burst, he finally approached me one day to ask “Are you Psycho Dollar Bill?” 

Equally incredulous and amazed that somebody actually knew about me and my blog in prison, I answered in the affirmative, and the guy exploded as if he’d just found Brad Pitt at MCC. And of course, he shouted the news flash to the world! Reagan became jealous and competitive immediately - which was when I found out about her tranny-hooking past. Anything I told Wang about the escort business was challenged and one-upped by Miss Thing. 

For my part, I was completely unassuming in my new role. But Reagan wasn’t having it. She was the fucking queen and that was it. I was so happy when she was released. In fact, there were many times I celebrated inmates’ exits, as I disliked a great majority of them. Any cause for celebration was in order. And when a particularly annoying prisoner was set free, I wasn’t happy for him. I was happy for me - as I wouldn’t have to hear his stupid bull shit ever again.

One interesting feature of the trans perception in prison lay in the reality that each and every inmate referred to Reagan as “he.” This I found curious. Any cosmopolitan non-homophobic person knows that referring to she males as “he” is like calling a black person colored. When it came to enlightenment on the sexual orientation front, inmates at MCC were sorely lacking. Homophobia ran wild in prison. And predictably, those who would rant were the same guys who dry-humped Reagan in the corner. 

In truth, Reagan was accepted in prison and got along fine (though she never had a cellmate). But that had to do with guys viewing her as a man - and not a woman - and somebody who was really good at stealing food and then presenting it for sale to hungry inmates.