Chapter 17: Timmy and the Burn Game

Timmy looked like Chet Baker, but with blonde hair and fucked up teeth. He talked and walked with feminine dignity, but would brag without end about his hot fiancée. Timmy had breath that could knock a buzzard off of a shit wagon.

He befriended an older inmate, a wood who went by the name of Evil Billy. Evil Billy had been in the institutional systems since he was fourteen. His longest stretch of freedom was a two year period. They would sit in each other’s bunk and talk for hours. Timmy had a way of laying in a bunk. He would lay on his back, with his legs splayed open in various poses, or on his stomach, with pillows underneath for support. Evil Billy used to call it “posting up,” after the way transvestites on the units were known to sit. Evil Billy had a crush on Timmy. He would just stare at him from across the room.

At the time, to combat boredom, we developed the “Burn Game.” The object of the game was to cause a person to look at another’s testicles, or “burn” them. Any eye contact of the crotch area immediately confirmed peter gazery.

Gary asks if a word is spelled correctly. I look. In my face is the word “BURN!” written in pencil on the front of his crotch.


“Faggot!” he laughs, and runs away.

In a laundry swap, I was issued an xxxs pair of boxers. I took a razor blade, cut them into a thong and dyed them in strawberry soda. I wrote “Love Me Roughly” on the back, attached a pink bow, and placed them under Timmy’s pillow.

An hour later, Timmy returned from his classes. By this point the entire dorm was in on the joke. All eyes were on Timmy as he walked to his bunk and flopped down in his odd manner. We collectively held our breath as his hand inched under the pillow.

Timmy sat up and removed the pillow. The thong stared back at him. He held it up, read it, then threw it across the day room in a huff.

We laughed. People were whistling. He turned red.

Timmy finally decided to at least laugh with us. He got up, got the thong, laughed and put it under Evil Billy’s pillow, and came over to my table.

We sat there watching as Evil Billy returned. He found the thong, but this time, Timmy was the only one laughing.

He carried the thong to Timmy.

“Look, Fuckstick, all you young cats like to play the burn game, but I don’t play around,” he told him, teeth clenched through a smile, “and since I’ve already told you I don’t play, you must have been serious.”

Timmy tried to play the joke off as best as he could.

The next day, Evil Billy got him back. Timmy was a shy kid. He would never change in public, an issue most of us stopped caring about after our first few days. Timmy would only change in the bathroom facing the day room.

Timmy went into the bathroom to change early that morning. Billy was in the shower, but Timmy did not see him. Timmy turned to face the dayroom and took off his clothes. When he bent to put on his boxers, Evil Billy reached out from the shower and inserted his index finger into Timmy’s ass, making a loud beeping sound.
Timmy jumped up and screamed. He ran to his bunk and hid under the covers. Evil Billy laughed.

Timmy never took part in the burn game again, but he was still constantly seen sitting on Billy’s bunk, posted up.

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