In a homeroom, round table with white or grey color stand there

without interior design. Just like guard secured them by kicked all
that stuff so they all flew over the place. Square place, only like 10-
15 cm, small enough for a little cafe or saloon back in 1820s. This
is the regular jail. There's oldest juvie in there, around 24 years
old. All of them with different skin colors with same uniform. Just
like other boys dorm. The food looks like a trash, but it's wealth
enough to this man. There's one tall guy, an afro walk towards him.
"Listen you old man, it's time you settle your tab, and put your
butt on the corner side of this room." Our uniform just like a
kiddie pajamas, grey shirts and blue training pants, runner shoes
that somehow feels really comfortable. So no matter how big
people here, and his fist seems could knock someone out of his life
before putted on the hospital. So released from those bills. "Oh
really? Don't you know what I did until I get to this place?" "What?
Smashing an arcade martial arts game, huh? You seemed forget
your own childhood, don't you?" "You messed with a wrong guy in
a wrong day." "Oh really?" "Yeah" "Get out of here, loser!"
"Buump," sounds of straight kick from the same thing that guy
made fun about. Then he sweeping his leg. Of course the kicker
knowing the bodyguards will find them and hit them with little
stick. So the karate guy hold that guy's shirt into a toilet, then
kicking him in a small space so there's no chance of fighting back.
There's no hiss of surrender, just quiet mouth. How about the
other prisoners? Gone sleep on their cells. Good luck for him. Get
out both of them into sit down position to each other. Waiting for
him wakes up. “Where am I?” “Ask yourself.” “You again, please
not another rumble.” “Relax, let‟s talking for a while.” “What do
you mean? You just kicked me for minutes and really enjoyed it.”
“So what‟s your problem?” “Enough about that. By the way what‟t
your name?” “Chad.” “Matched name for badass people like you.”
“No surprise.” “You‟re college man?” “Nope. I‟m right here since
18 years old.” “Just graduated from high school?” “Yeah, right.”
“You have not any regret?” “Tell me what should I regret about?”
“You already said that.” “What? No college?” “I don‟t know man,
but you‟re like my friends talked about back in high school. But
never see you there.” “I‟m outside for a long time, very often.” “No
surprise about that.” “Something you like about me.” “Oh about
that. Satisfied my leg kicked your back countless times.” “Ah don‟t
you start!” “Want more massage?” “No no no…. please!”
“Hahahaha.” “I‟m Mitch, West Valley High School, period of 1982-
1985.” “Same high school, eh?” “Guess so.” “Whatever man, let‟s
back to the room before they kicked us.” “How about my wounds?”
There are more wounds outside this.”

Mitch on 57, and Chad on 2. What really happen actually? Two

guys on his middle lifetime standing there rather than do
something “nice”. There just one more thing than anything, “time”,
they still have time. Chad act like nothing happen to him. Just like
innocent kid went to school, make some friends, interacting
anywhere on a small round. On a comfortable bed, above him is
Javier, a Mexican with neat mustache above his lip, long neat hair,
really clean. No wonder how much soap he uses despite hair oil‟s
not allowed due to it‟s bill.

“Wake up, boys, it‟s workout time, make yourself healthy so we

don‟t have to pay your medical bills!” Very polite way compared to
most of prisons in the world. “Hey Javier, wake up man. You get
yourself killed.” “Y tu?” “Como estas?” “Coprende amigo,
coprende?” “Pardon pero no habla on solo poquito espanol. Habla
Inglesh?” “O si amigo. Habla mucho inglesh.” “Ah come on man, I
know you can speak english.” “You dead, amigo.” Rather than kill
himself but care about his amigo, no wondr what happen to him
afterwards. There is a green field with black strip just like
common field. A basketball ring without football goal. Chad like to
improve his leg rather than use his hands, couldn‟t even play that
thing. Mitch and his homies often quarrel with him about his bad
skill at this “toy”. But Mitch seems not like to talking this time. An
officer slapping his cheeks. Glad not his back. “Hey squad or
homie?” Mitch just down on his own. His homies don‟t play if he
not play. So Chad kick the basketball for amusement of them or
just make fun of them. Two kicks layed to their butt. There‟s no
respond, so Mitch repeating over like 6 times. “Hahahaha”. Chad
really glad about that. But how about Javier? Maybe he
responding with mexican spanish again while men in black ready
with their sticks or sticks with electricity on it. What a poor boy. It
seems his hairy arm would stand up. Somehow Chad laughing
while thinking about this. His urges with psychotic intention still
haunting him to do more “action” to make himself happy. Actually
there are two electic sticks on his cell. Javier don‟t know about this.
What if the officers looked out for this and blaming him.

Brad the gangster officer looking for cell number two. “Y si tu?”
“How about I pull your hair?” “Eh?” “Ahhhh!” Poor kid, now he
punched by old Brad without asking him first. “Hey what are you
doing with this stick? Make your hair standing tall like a soldier?”
“Ahhhhh, sisisisisi!” “Si?” “Nononnono”. He doesn‟t even replying
properly. One electricity touched his leg, “Argggggh!” Brad
antagonizing him with random spanish language, “ Coprende
amigo, coprende?” “Arggghh Mi hala baha!” “Porque es paso e
paso?” “Argggh!” “Uno!” “Ahh” “Dos!” “Tres” “Paisa paisa estas
pasado eh?” “Perdone senor, gracias!” Javier lie down there. Chad
tired making fun of those homies. Kicking the basketball like a
football. Going to the cell, seeing Brad with smirk in his face.
“What‟s so funny, dead meat?” “You dead meat!” Even Brad
manipulated by Chad without do anything right. Somehow his
pants down. Seeing Javier lied down powerless, seeing him and
saying late words, “Perdone, amigo.” He replied slowly, “Si,
gringo.”

Mitch just have a cleaning service as a job to buy junkies as a

dinner with his friends Franklin, Frank, and Dennis. Wiping all
around straight from room number 47 to 2. “Hey man, what have
you done now? Eat his face?” “No man, it‟s the old fat Brad.” “Oh
that dude. Let‟s do our job.” “How about your back?” “No pain.”
“What do you say?” “I mean I‟m ready for this job.” “Ok.” “Rest
well my friend. Keep practicing your english, ok? Here‟s a english
dictionary. Maybe will help. Probably not I guess.” Javier just pull
the book with his soft left hand.

Like a detective or more like newbie psychology who just opened

his practice with innocent patient, Mitch sit down and asks
planned question, “So what‟s the plan?” „Frank or Franklin have
any idea?” Both of them staring at each other. Maybe there are
feelings among them. “Get the board. We need to do something on
it.” “Sounds like a plan.” Mitch put on his walkman on a floor in
the bathroom. Playing “There Was a Time” by James Brown.
Without telling us, Dennis the quiet 16 years old teenager pulling
the round part of the toilet, cleaning it with remain toilet paper
like it‟s precious thing. Chad yelling like crazy at him, “Dennis my
boy, you genius!” Followed by Franklin, “Hey we need more of
that round stuff without cleaning it. The stink objects will distract
those neat bad or good guys!” “How many of them?” Dennis
replied, “My age.” Frank answered, “Nice!” “Hola amigos! Esta
bien?” Javier coming with somethings on a black trash bag. “What
is that?” Chad‟s eyebrows united before five continents unite again.
“Dead rats!” “Hey nice english!” “Muy bien!” With mexican accent
answered, “We use this bullets to distract them, then throw the
remain towards Brad!” “I will use my legs to kick his butt!” “Let
your old man Chad doing his job.” “What are you gonna do?”
“Spin kicks, drag him into this place. Right Mitch?” “Ahh, yyy-
“Get him a body bag!” Together, “Yeahhhhhhh!”

“We‟re not gonna take it! Whoa we‟re not gonna take it! We‟re not
gonna take it, anymore!”

Right at 02:00 AM, Chad starts his speech:

“Listen everyone! Back in my day when you roast somebody, you

say it to their FACES! There is honor and respect!” Mitch cutting,
“Captain what are you doing?” “Shut up, kicking bag!” While
drinking bottle of coors, keeping up his speech:

“You‟ve all learned to strike first. To be aggressive… and not be

losers. I taught you strike hard.” “Since when?” Chad throwing the
bag plastic covering the bottle.” “Ouchh” “Provoke yet?” “No
captain. I mean yes sir!”

“To put every ounce of your power behind everything you do. But I
haven‟t taught you the third rule of this new dojo: No mercy. The
older you get, the more you‟re gonna learn… that life isn‟t fair. You
wake up one morning feeling great and then life throws a spinning
heel kick to your balls, and takes a big steaming dirt in your
mouth. You get an F on a test. You got suspended. You fall in love
with a girl, but some other dude comes and steals her away. Your
car gets set on fire. Just when you think things are going good,
everything falls apart. That‟s how it goes. Life shows no mercy; so
neither do we. We do whatever It takes to keep our heads above
water. We do wathever it takes to keep moving forward. We do
wathever it takes to win! Remember who we are. We are free.
Don‟t afraid to die, we already been! We‟re Deadly Meat!

Dennis: DEADLY MEAT!!!!

Chad: Let‟s take our shield and ammunitions and STRIKE

EVERYBODY!!!!

Frank and Franklin: GET THEM BODY BAG YEAHHHH!!!!

Brad: Who‟s yelling in there?

Mitch: Come in, homie!

Brad: (Comes in)

Mitch: This is your breakfast, officah! (Forcefully get the first

priceless dead rat named Jamiece)
Brad: Aurgahsssss

Mitch: Sleep tight officah. Tastes good isn‟t it.

Mitch: What we gonna do now. There is no plan on the plate, just

SHIELD!

Dennis: There is gasoline here!

Frank: Thanks for the info, captain Obvious.

Chad: Just burn this whole place. Remember, fear is not exist!
We‟re not afraid of death since we are death itself! We‟re already
been dead for years, you hear me!

Mitch, Frank, Franklin, and Dennis: AIGHTT!!!!