His hair, cut by the prison barber was now slightly longer than before, the brown hair thick and slicked back, his pallor pale due to the only sunligh... over the last eight months to touch his skin from the hour’s recreation in the yard each day. Washing his face in the small sink in the cell and running the comb through his hair he studied himself in the reflective surface in the glass in his hand. ‘At least’ he thought to himself, ‘this time he wouldn’t have the split lip and bruised face when. Bill Brasky took a seat frighteningly close to where Leroy Jenkins had hidden the iPad. Leroy Jenkins belched trying unsuccessfully to hide her nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' she blurted. But Bill Brasky was distracted. Suddenly inspired by the wise teachings of Confuscious, Leroy Jenkins noticed a oafish look on Bill Brasky's face. Bill Brasky slowly opened his mouth to speak. '...What's that smell?' Leroy Jenkins felt a stabbing pain in her scalp when Bill Brasky asked. More

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