Happy thanksgiving is what they said, gave me a big slice of turkey, pumpkin pie, a side of dressing, and more than one piece of bread. Every CO was polite, they spoke without dread. The whole day they ran chow and made sure every inmate was fed.

“The best meal they gave us,” I heard someone say. “All this food and we didn’t even have to pay.”

He walked away laughing, rubbing his belly all the way. Something felt off, still, I paid it no mind, believing all things will reveal themselves in due time. I went about my business and enjoyed the rest of my day. Thinking about my family as the time ticked away. The weekend went well until Sunday night. They announced “We were on lockdown” and cut off all the lights.

I fell asleep early, all things peaceful as they seem, suddenly I awoke to screaming interrupting my dreams.

“TACK TEAM IN THE BUILDING A HUNDRED STRONG AND THEY ALL GOT SPRAY, IF YOU GOT ANY CONTRABAND NOW IS THE TIME TO THROW IT ALL AWAY”

Footsteps approached and they opened my cell.I realized the price of that turkey was the next few days of hell.

“FRONT OF THE CELL, TAKE OFF ALL YOUR CLOTHES. OPEN YOUR MOUTH. MOVE YOUR JUNK AROUND. WIGGLE YOUR TOES. SHUT UP INMATE. HAND ME YOUR BLUES, AND DON’T FORGET TO BEND OVER AND SPREAD EM BEFORE YOU HAND ME YOUR SHOES!”

I felt like a slave at that moment about to be sold. And happy thanksgiving was the biggest lie they told. The price for that pie was my dignity. That stuffing cost me my soul. How can I fall for their trick when I made it to be this old. They gave the indigenous people a blanket after they offered them a meal.

I said happy thanksgiving and got the same deal. It would’ve happened anyways, this may be true. As long as the 13th amendment stands, what is a black prisoner man to do?