At 3:28 on a predawn Friday morning I was sitting on the toilet in my darkened prison cell. I sought only to peacefully relieve nature's inevitable call. Ringtown Mike, a guard with peculiar personality problems, came to the cell door. He wanted to contine harassing and threatening me. I'm very important to him. I'm unsure why Mikey was on the cellblock in the middle of the night. He was a daytime guard, dull-witted and slavering. I'd discovered that he had an unnatural fixation on all things fecal. That's not normal even for a prison guard. Seeing that I was shitting, Mike inhaled deeply. He stood there at the door gawking for long minutes. Most normal men don't spend five minutes watching another man shit. Most normal men would rather be doing almost anything else. Ringtown Mike has something seriously wrong with him. Even a man intoxicated with an aroma he really craves will seldom gaze adoringly at an old man taking a crap. While he watched me sitting on the toilet, Mike grunted husky whispers. He's a sneak. He didn't want any witnesses to his harassment, sexual and otherwise so he was being as quiet as possible. Maybe he was trying to sound menacing or sexy. Knowing Mike, either alternative is pretty silly. He's as sexy as a plate of spinach and as menacing as dusty newspapers. Being old and half deaf, I couldn't make out much of his grunting. I got it that I was a "bitch" and I heard him threaten me with "I'll be back!" I think it was a line he'd heard in a movie. The only reason that I was awake and on the toilet at 3:28 AM was that Mike had spent hours harassing me. I'm very important to him. I think he's a pervert. His life in Ringtown and in the prison must be drab indeed, or maybe he just likes the reek of old-fellow shit. Sometime after 10 PM the previous evening, just after I'd taken my heart medication and fallen asleep, Mike startled me awake. He screamed in the cell door. I'm very important to him. The shock failed to cause a heart attack. After the frustration of failing to cause a medical crisis, he thoughtfully allowed me to rest until 2:02 in the morning. Then I was awakened again. Mike was shinning a flashlight in my eyes. He continued the harassment for a long time. I finally asked him, "is there something you want?" He answered, "your soul!" I suppose that was a death threat. Like many guards, Ringtown Mike relies heavily on threats. Mike was back a moment later. He banged his flashlight on the steel cell door. Just over an hour later, at 3:18, after I'd taken some heart medication and fallen back to sleep, Mike was back. He screamed into the cell. I ignored him. For several minutes, he continued tapping on the door, making growling noises and threats. Guards don't have much to do. Harassing me must have seemed like amusing entertainment. I figured I was lucky to get as much sleep as I'd been allowed. I got out of the cot and got dressed. That's when I used the toilet. Mike came running like a dung beetle lusting for a turd. The stink must have satisfied him for a couple of hours. He was back again at two minutes after five in the morning. By then I was typing at the desk-like shelf in the cell. From the door, he made noises, growled and cleared his throat. His growling is somewhat mystifying. What's that supposed to mean? Is he trying to be menacing or sexy, or maybe just inane? I was wearing earphones and simply ignored him. He was disappointed. I didn't see him for days after that. Ringtown Mike is one of your stranger prison guards, but certainly not the only jerk. Like Mike, a guy I call "Grape Juice," relies heavily on threats. He must be pretty insecure. The poor dear isn't much of an intellect. He can't count to two if I'm typing. The typewriter sound boggles his limited faculties. For all that, Grape Juice wouldn't think of watching an old man shit. He doesn't seem to have perverse obsessions. Even McPeeker, the guard who likes to harass guys while they piss and to sneak glances of dick, draws the line at making shitting a spectator sport. When I asked my wife why a man would ogle another man taking a shit, she was convinced he was trying to embarrass me. After 30 years in prison, I don't get embarrassed by being peeked at by perverse prison guards. I don't even get angry from harassment like Mike's. It's a good thing. With my bad heart, anger might kill me. That's most likely what Mike is hoping for; murder by harassment. Or maybe, I'm just VERY important to him.