Chapter 3


Wait. I have been extremely careless; I apologize. I am Antonio; janitor, philosopher, psychopath. I work at the Illinois state prison, or rather, used to. A janitor’s job here, is a perilous one. Your superiors insult you, your colleagues are either retards or bastards (and sometimes both). And the inmates, well, the less said the better.

But things went quite smoothly for me, you know. On my first day, while I was cleaning the toilets, three inmates sneaked up behind me. One held a knife in his hand. I smiled at them; I’m a polite guy; and continued working. Suddenly, I found the knife placed, not so delicately, at my throat. Also, strangely, they had twisted my arm behind my back. Evidently they wanted something. I asked them what. They didn’t answer. Since I was getting late, I had work to do, I lunged forward and the knife got wedged in my throat. I kicked one of them in the groin, banged his head against the commode,breaking his skull. The others ran must have run away, because at that moment, I fainted.

When I awoke, I was in the prison hospital. The knife hadn’t pieced my windpipe, but nevertheless, had left a nasty scar. In a few weeks, I resumed my job. The warden thought that I’d sue, but I didn’t. However, I found that everybody was afraid of me. Nobody would speak, or even be in the same room as me. I didn’t mind, of course. They were a bunch of losers anyway.

But Bill was different, and I found this out the day the warden knocked on my door. He was a fat, semi-bald man, our warden. He smelt of stale cigars and cheap cologne. He had a thick moustache which he adored. It was rumored that it was a fake. He had large, watery eyes which, at that moment, looked uneasily about the room. He noticed that I was writing down something. “Ahem,” he said. I looked at him, and raised an eyebrow. “Your duties have been changed. From tomorrow, you will only tend to Bill's cell."
" You have also been awarded a pay raise,” he added hastily. He looked at me, as if expecting me to refuse, or protest. I grunted, and returned to my writing. He waited a while, and left.

Meanwhile, in his cell, Bill was smiling to himself.