sHe: THE RISE OF THE NEW BREEDS [Book 1]

Chapter 9

CAPT OLSEN WAS ABOUT TO ASCERTAINED some latest orders from Warden Graves, who was still on the phone in her office...

The Warden's job, these days, was reduced to keep an outstanding record — the governor had forced her and her staff backs to the wall into, with her unrealistic demands — so that Gertrude Harris could look exceptional as the model husbandry governor from Texas who succeeded in the Intersexual semen extraction schema — and also for the governor's patriotic duty, to her country and what her Christian faith enunciated of her strong role in the New World Order — where to multiply the future generations of the female specie, was the top agenda and priority.

"Yes, Governor Harris, (yes), I will get back to you in an hour, bye.'

The Warden slammed the phone receiver down — she cried out in seethe and vented...

"That meddling harridan bitch! Why can't she leave me in peace to do my job in running this fucking prison — that cunt can only suffocate me with her never-ending instructions after instructions every fucking day on the damn phone, despite my pile of paperwork, that I have to submit on top of her damn erratic demands — and it is always I — who have to take every other shit that goes around here, in this fucking Tombscradle prison of hers!!?"

"What did she say this time?" Olsen asked in an over-serious tone.

In the past years, Warden Erica Graves' hegemonic job was manageable when she was only looking after the Blacks and the Hispanic children-soldiers that were separated by a single fence — but, then five years ago...

... — the White orphans came when Governor Gertrude Harris included Tombscradle of Texas — that should be the 'model' semen-collection prison of the country, in the program initiated by Washington.

"The bitch keeps deterring with accusations that we are screwing things up over here, ever since that stunt pulled by that Preacher, by cutting his balls up — and now — fuck! We now got 6 convicts dead after that Niggers and Hispanic 'throw-down' yesterday — and now, Harris keeps threatening me that Washington wants to monitoring everything that is going down in here, in Tombscradle!"

Capt. Olsen shook her head...

"It is just a bluff, Warden, why should Washington care of how we do things here in our Texas backyard? Furthermore, we are on schedule in the milking and we have met their deadlines every time."

Graves sat down at her desk. "I don't know what they are hustling back there, Olsen but that governor bitch has now mentioned that Washington dissuades prisoners to be confined in solitary — and they want the Preacher let out now."

"What!!?"

It shocked Olsen. The weary overworked captain dissected the current prison circumstances...

"What do they know what we face here? That dog-monk is a living menace, creating unrest every time he is out — and that hole is the only way where he can be put in his place for my guards to check into his 'attitude adjustment' level — or else — with his hog behavior of his, he will be stirring up more shit around for the gen-pop, to get more illing among the races in the yard — and even my deuces are finding the fuckers hard to control these days, like with that throw-down yesterday with 6 dead..."

The miserable warden remonstrated with her stress too...

"That's what I keep telling that bitch in my reports about him — but, she keeps turning things around, and she's blaming us instead — it seems, Washington has given a mandatory instruction for her to get the bastard Preacher out of the hole soon!.

"But why did she agreed to it!!? I don't see any goddamn logic in that!"

Olsen too was puzzled.

"What is Washington's interest with a fucking orphan monk from a shitty monastery out of nowhere? Why treat him like a VIP, for all he does here is juice up more trouble for everyone — that Governor Harris does not know for shit what she is doing in Huston!"

Erica Graves pulled out a paper from a file and placed it in front of Olsen to peruse.

"See, this is the fax I got from her today. Look, she is now creating her own systems on how I should run things here. She even wants me to mix the racial batches that go to the Auditorium — but, with these Hispanics and Niggers killing themselves openly — now, how the fuck do I mix them!!? If I put them with the Asians and White, the minorities will soon be 'hoe-checked' — and soon be buried dead too, in the Potter's Field.

"The bitch's decision is a discernible disaster!"

"Damn, this is getting tough in here, Warden. I am understaffed and my guards are overworked," the hampered Olsen replied, and placing the fax back on the desk.

Graves ignored the captain's exempts — and she pointed back at paper...

"But look here at this bullshit here — the smart-cunt even wrote that Washington will be sending their people now over to regularly check on us here. So now Olsen, it leaves me no choice but to put the damn Preacher back with the GP in the yard."

"What fucking choice do we have, Warden — when it is now in black and white..."

The heeding Captain of the Guards passively groaned...

"Okay Olsen — listen, this is what is going to happen now — I want to build a cage and you to put that bastard in that cage — he will have no contact with any other fucking shemales in the yard, okay?

"Let all of his followers see him in that damn cage, and the humiliation of his failed divest leadership — and that will surely deter them from rebelling any further...

"Remember Olsen, nobody gets near to him — nobody — not any of those blanket-freaks or any of the racial group! If you have to, you cap-peel their skulls or you cut off their tongues if they go over and speak to him — Olsen, I am dead serious!

"The Preacher will not give a detrimental sermon for the rest of his 'bow,' when he is still breathing in my prison — is that understood?"

The Captain of Guard nodded to immediately implement her superior's acumen measures, in avoiding any more future blood-spills among the Governor Harris' semen donor inmates, in the prison.