Get Him a P-Number

Without being able to find humor in the face of adversity, a person can go crazy.  As you might expect, we have plenty of adversity in prison and therefore an abundance of laughter, too.  It helps us cope.  Often, the humor will be a result of a wry observation on prison life.  For example: 

1. We can’t buy pencils, because they can be made into a weapon, but we can buy razors!

2. The Dairy Drink we are sometimes offered in lieu of milk lists “Non-Dairy Creamer” as its #1 ingredient.

Both ridiculous, both true!

The second major source of comedy is what’s known behind bars as “That Boy Just Ain’t Right” or “Get him a P-Number”. (A P-Number is the ID given to inmates on the psychiatric unit.)  Characters who fall into these categories may not be intending any humor, but their peculiar comments and antics are entertaining.  The two main actors in our unit’s Theatre of the Absurd are my old Appalachian mountain buddy Billy Joe and a fellow known as Half-Baked. (He got that nickname after someone commented, “His Mama popped him out of the oven a little early.”)  The anecdotes I’m about to tell have become part of Unit Lore.  Now it only takes one keyword dropped into a conversation to set off the laughter.

Ailment: 

One morning, I pass Billy Joe in the hallway and note that he is looking particularly disheveled and wan.  Against my better judgment, I ask, “How ya doin’ Billy Joe?”  
    “Not so good, man,” he replies.  “I’m sicker than a Motherf_______.”
(Keep in mind that Billy Joe has his own sickness rating scale that is a little different from the one your doctor uses to rate your pain.  From least sick to most, the scale goes:  (1) not so good, (2) sick as a 3-legged dog, (3) sicker than a Mother______, and (4) cut down the pines (to make him a pine coffin).
    So I reply, “How so Billy?”
    “Well,” he says, “the doctor tells me I got 13 ailments.  Six major ones and eight more.”
    “You sure about that Billy?  6 and 8 is 14, not 13.”
    “Dayumm,” he sighs, “I’s getting’ sicker by the day.”

Choice:

Billy Joe walks into the tv room and announces:  “I’m a goin’ home boys!”
    “What you talkin’ about BJ?”
    “Well, they got new rules about Armed Career Criminals and it’s getting’ me out!”
    “You sure it applies to you, Billy?”
    “Hell yes!  It’s RADIOACTIVE!”
    “Say what?”
    Billy Joe stares at us as if we are stupid children and repeats, “Yeah, goin’ back in time, y’know?  Radioactive!”  He shakes his head and walks out, mumbling, “No use talkin’ to these idiots.”

Ghosts:

    Another evening in the tv room, Half-Baked leans over to ask his neighbor a question.  Those of us within earshot assume it will be a question about the tv show.  But no, that would make too much sense.  Once he sees that he has everybody’s attention, Half-Baked poses the following riddle:  “To earn your freedom, would you rather spend one week alone at Alcatraz or one week alone at a closed down Insane Asylum?”
    I chuckle lightly, assuming the others will, too, but to my surprise they fall deep in thought.  I offer up that all things being equal, I’d choose Alcatraz, because from there at least you can see the lights of San Francisco.  Everybody looks at me as if I'm crazy.  What about the ghosts haunting both locations?  The tortured souls seeking revenge?  As the only non-believer in evil spirits, I take a step back while the debate heats up.  One guy eventually decides he would rather serve eight years here than spend even one night with the ghosts.  Finally, however, Half-Baked tops them all.  His face grows serious as he prepares to drop some knowledge.  In a quiet, solemn tone he explains, “Think about it guys.  Alcatraz got the ghosts of gangsters, rapists and murderers.  An insane asylum’s got women.  So you could be bangin’ some hot ghost-chicks, not fightin’ for your life!  Easy choice!”  At that, Half-Baked leans back with a satisfied look on his face.  I'm waiting for the laughter.  It does not come.  As I walk away, though, I hear the conversation turn to what it would be like to have sex with a ghost. 
    I wish I was making this up.  As odd or funny as these stories may be, they are so commonplace here that no one ever doubts their veracity.  I’m just thankful for the free comedy!