Prison Prose

By Jeff H.

Lenny loved writing stories. Awful, contrived stories.

Lenny also loved petty crime: vandalism, shoplifting, selling alcohol to minors. Which he was as skilled at as he was making believable plots and characters. Jailers groaned when Lenny appeared, since he read his fiction aloud 24-7. And it was all truly horrendous.

Eventually Lenny was caught poaching salmon, a felony. But he was happy—the state pen meant free meals, hot showers, and a general population which had to listen to his new, multiple-volume novel.

So in the end, you could say Lenny had just been fishing for a captive audience.

           
“I write for the fun of it.” – the writer