I ran this prison. I was the big cheese. I've won every single fight I have ever been in locked up. I've been jumped, stabbed, you name it. This prison hardened me. Sent me to a place I didn't think was possible, bro. They called my sentence and time locked up as "The Great Disaster."
Every single day during feeding hours I would knock somebody out and then suck their dicks in front of everybody while they were out cold. Just like how papa showed me how to do it. This caused heterosexual panic amongst the inmates, probably because every single one of them enjoyed watching, even if it was merely to fulfill a sick fascination. Buncha faggot goofs.
How is respect earned in this prison? By looking up at the man depositing his respect in your mouth, and you gently wiping the excess back into your talk box. That's how respect is earned, bro.
I performed ungodly sexual favors to the guards to basically have whole-prison immunity. I squared up to every man I have met there by looking into their eyes, winking, and then blowing them a kiss. If I wanted my 3 inch dick sucked... I could make that happen within moments.
I remember my first day like it was yesterday, the way Big T worked my innards, how could I not? After my sentencing, I was thrown into a cell at the mercy of Big T, who stared at my puckering and quivering butthole drooling and hyperventilating in lascivious envy. Weeks went by as my asshole grew accustomed to the abuse it was receiving, but it wasn't enough. One night when me and Big T were spooning, doing the usual faggot shit, I got up and just stared at him, admiring his enormous lips. I was transfered to a new cell the next day, but I new the connection me and Big T had would last forever, an eternity even.
I just got out today after serving 3 years 4 months and 17 days. I went in for one count of aggravated assault and 2 counts of possession and distribution of jenkem.
I don't know what the future holds for me, but I am optimistic. Today is the start of a new beginning, a new chapter in my life.
im john sakibe from malawi
Well, I thought I'd hear some good stories on this site about Drum pen. Not a single good story. Just a bunch of worried ladies about they're man. Boring but understandable. So I'm going to tell you all a little story about drum drama. Happened way back in 85,when I was but a young and foolish kid of 22 years. I was just sentenced to 11 years for an aggregate term of 18 and a half years. Aggregate meaning ,the 11 was on top of a six and half year sentence that I had already been serving, and out on mandatory supervision(statutory release now a days) when I (allegedly)committed an armed robbery on a drug store and got the 11 years which they added on consecutively for the total of 18 and a half years. My first week back inside the pen went something like this.Being young and full of, what I call false bravo masculinity and totally in rage with myself for being back in the belly of the beast, I was looking for a target to sick my rage on, an opportunity presented itself. It was Halloween,1985 and we were under lock down for some stupid reason or other. Some one in admin came up with the stupid idea of letting us out one unit at a time for supper to go to the cafeteria to eat. I was in unit 11 and I think we were third in line when we finally got out to go eat. I can't remember what was on the menu but rest assured it was the usual slop prepared by the stewards and bulls. We were rushed like cattle in herds to chow down and then when we got back to the unit, we were probed like cattle back into our cages. This is where it gets interesting. A few of the young fellows were grumbling about locking up so I took the initiative and starting enflaming the emotions of the unharnessed testosteronic growing crowd mentality, little by little at first and then growing into a perfect mob induced free for all. First the chairs started flying, then the table legs were separated from they're hosts, all kinds of weapons suddenly appeared, windows in the bubble became smashed one by one. The L.U's,( living unit officer, what they called the screws back then) too terrified to leave the comfort of they're ever shrinking domain, looked on in fear behind they're masks of uncertainty.Soon every window and everything that could be smashed in the unit was smashed, when there was a slight pause in the action. THE CANTEEN, someone yelled but could barely be heard above the dull roar of the riot in progress but surely every one did hear and everyone's attention was directed on that very lonely and vulnerable canteen door. As soon as the first window was smashed, opportunists waiting ever so patiently in the shadows for this very moment were the first ones in. Myself, I just strolled over and took a couple of packs of T.M's(tailor made) and looked around at all the chaos I started and smugly smiled to myself. Now what, I'm thinking as I look over my shoulder towards the bubble. Shockingly I stare at the screws, still stranded in they're broken down command post, frozen in fear. Unbelievable, they're still there I'm thinking. Why didn't they fuck off when they could? Oh well! Now it's to late. I'm in a state of total frenzy that's been building to an apex of exploding self hate and guilt that's been oozing out my ears for months. My attention shifts one hundred and ten percent on these sorry ass mother fuckers that were to stupid to leave when they had the chance. Table leg in hand, I locked on to my victim and slowly swaggered over to the defenceless broken down bubble, enjoying his look of total vulnerability and state of sheer terror. For a moment our eye's locked on to each others perspective, for me pure empowerment, him not so much I'm assuming. I slam the table leg into his torso expecting some other kind of reaction other than the one I got. His look of total defeat and acceptance of what was going to happen next was not what I was expecting. I couldn't help but noticed a growing wet spot running down his pant leg and at that moment I realized, what the fuck am I doing? Now I'm frozen in mid swing. I look away and not knowing what to do next, I sheepishly back away in confused shock and over whelming dread. I didn't have time to dwell on the situation because that's when all shit hit the fan and the fire works began. The sour spicy smell of tear gas followed by the burning sense my skin was on fire. Through watery and burning eyes I looked for an escape to the closest range. I landed on D range and along with everyone else running in blind panic, ran into a cell half way down and was the last one in before some one slammed the door shut. There was about eight of us in the two man cell and I was wondering why was everyone looking at me so seriously when I realised I was still holding the table leg in my hand. I sloughed it off and threw it under the bed and said, now what guys? We jockeyed for the sink and started washing off the tear gas best I could but it continued to burn like a mother fucker. I was one hundred percent exhausted, emotionally and physically. I opened one of the packs of T.M's and pass some around to who ever didn't get in on the carnage of the free for all in the canteen. The goon squad came around and put us all back in our proper cells where I remained until they had a chance to figure out who was involved. I guess there was four L.U's that were pretty shaken because they ran out of unit eleven screaming a bunch of crazy shit and yelling that we were skinners and killers. I'm guessing that the female guard was probably thinking the whole time she was going to be raped and killed. But really we didn't even think about the guards until towards the end when I think only two got hit and it was done in hindsight sort of thing. Seven months I spent in the hole waiting to get sentenced for participating in a riot, starting a riot and aggravated assault on a peace officer. And believe me, that's when shit got real. Pay back time. I never been degraded like that my whole life. Seven fucking months of you name it, from beatings to food poisoning even germ war fare and my weekly cell extraction (by force of course) which consisted of six to ten guards bum rushing my cell, fighting me to the ground, pepper spraying me,( some times spraying me after I was shackled up). Drag me to the shower naked feet first, wash me off and drag me back to my cell. Then shackle me to the bed naked, open my window as wide as it would go and slam my door shut. Done. Nope , Some genius taught us all how to make a hand cuff key out of a bic lighter. Back then you could smoke in the pen and everyone had a lighter. The screws would be so pissed off because we would remove the shackles, break them and throw them in the hall way not knowing how the hell we were getting them off. So each time they would go through this weekly routine of shackling me up, It would get worse and worse. To the point where they shackled each of my limbs to the four posts of the bed and then shackle and hand cuff my limbs together so that there was no give. I remember this one time clearly for two reasons, One it was Christmas, two after shackling me hog tied style one of the real dick screws put a knife to my throat and said lets see you get out of this one Leaney. Twenty minutes later they had four sets of broken shackles in the hall way. This shit went on for Seven months before I was sentenced to a further 15 months for an aggregate term of over twenty years and sent to the S.H.U where I spent 3 years buried in the festering ulcer of the belly of the beast(that's a hole different story) before I would see freedom again and go to Edmonton max to finish my sentence.(that's another story too)There is a moral to this story, actually a couple. Before I left Drum and was sent to the S.H.U. An old timer guard came up to me and said, hey Leaney, If I was younger and in your shoe's, I'd like to think that I would handle my self just like you did. We didn't break you.I never said any thing to that old timer but I wished I had thanked him because it saved my sanity for what I went through and had yet to endure. It meant more to me than any one could understand. Secondly, I hope all you women that are on here talk to your man. Tell them to be wise and not stupid like me. Tell them that it's easy to loose your identity in here and become something you really don't want to become. Because at that young age if your in the pen you are still learning what true masculinity is and it's to easy to get caught up in the bull shit and go down the wrong road of trying to find that true masculinity. I am an old man who spent almost my entire adult life in the penitentiary wishing I had a real role model to shape my masculinity when I was a young head strong fool. It is not worth it. I know. And I'm the lucky one. Almost all my friends didn't make it this far. I also have to live with all the guilt of a very destructive life style that put me in the pen all those years. Even that Guard I terrorized, I have to live with that guilt of doing that to another human being. I still pray for him time to time as it still bothers me. Tell your young men that guilt always catches up in time no matter how many walls you put up. Tell them to behave in there and get out of that cycle before it's to late. I went into drum the first time at 17 and before I new it I was lost with an ass full of time and no where to go but old.
almost home wrote on Monday, January 04, 2016
I have so much to say, yet I can't articulate my words at the moment. Thank you so much for your story. I hope you came out the other side a better man and giving back what you have learned to those who could benefit.
My partner is out in 3 months and he was very much like you, until he woke up. Well He's about 80% awake. It's a work in progress. I would love some mentorship on how I can support him, from someone who understands the challenges. If your up for it. Knockknock876@gmail.com
Carolnoskey wrote on Monday, February 22, 2016
Thank you for sharing your story . I have a young son in there second time around .
is there ANY way i can check on my man here? havent heard from him worried sick
spirderman wrote on Friday, September 16, 2016
why you worried about that fucking loser for?. the only reason he goes to the big house is to get big cock in ass and fill his hole with big black cock cum, cause you can't give it to him. And it's free.
Can anyone give me the pen pack list? The one I have is not accurate or up to date I was told it has been changed .
T wrote on Tuesday, December 08, 2015
I wish. My man just went in too....and that place sucks....they claim he has to send us the the pen pack list he's given :(
Mikiesma wrote on Tuesday, December 08, 2015
I have it but I can't seem to upload it from my iPad :(
Anyone have any information about what I can bring to a pfv? I am bringing only clothes, toothbrush, blow dryer and deodorant and some movies..... The sheet I read said no make up.... At all? What about face cream or wash? Lotion? Can I bring a towel?
6 months to go wrote on Wednesday, September 30, 2015
No creams or lotions. Bottle of lube in clear package. Deodorant has to be clear as well, thats pretty much it. No towels they have lots anyway. Are you sure you can bring blow dryer?
I hate to have you stress....but myself and many other woman going for their first pfv get denied. They crank up the ion scanner to mess with you and your inmate. Please DO not stop anywhere after you shower. No bathroom expecially. Best tip I can give u is where gloves after you wash your hands and don't take them off until you are at prison. Don't touch ANYTHING!!! It is so heart breaking getting so excited and being sent away. I don't do any kind of drugs or associate with people who do them. They scanned me my first visit and I had high traces of herion, morphine, opium and Mary j on my hands. I stopped at a bathroom, I even washes my hands after. Protect yourself at all cost. I'm only 1 out of tons of women I have talked to that had same thing happen their first pfv.
sorry don't mean to scare you. Just hate seeing another heart broken couple.
Excited wrote on Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Oh don't worry I have been freaking out. I had like 15 clean visits and then when my pfv got approved I rang off two times in a row on the scanners. That's why I'm bringing so little and will wash all clothes twice in hot water and high heat dry and the bag as well, right from the dryer to the car (which also wiped like crazy)! I do stop at bps but basically take a shower in the sink lol, and wrap my hands in paper towels from there. So stupid to have to do all this hey? I mean I know they gotta keep drugs out but accusing the innocent bc of touching a door handle and losing visits seems crazy! Yeah the sheet said blow dryer, curler and straightener were allowed. Maybe I'll say screw it to dryer since hard to clean and just have messy hair, one less thing to worry about. Thanx lady!
whats the beef with martin pinkus? People say hes p.c rat?
Never heard anything but good stuff about the guy. people say he was murdered? i heard he was in the hole and hung himself
easy one wrote on Monday, September 07, 2015
if you were from ontario you wouldnt wonder?
bannnd wrote on Saturday, September 12, 2015
well thats fucking informative. care to explain? obviously he was in for the murder of the 'gas station attendant' but whats the beef everybody calling him a skinner /rat/goof over?
feeling it now wrote on Tuesday, September 15, 2015
Let's c, he jumped peps after getting pkg's sent to him. He ran around the joint pulling heavy's meanwhile he wined and was ratting to the man the whole time he was in j unit, is that informative ? or are you writing a book?
wrote on Saturday, September 19, 2015
Thats informative, he proabably jumped people for a good reason, considering hes a lifer and doesnt give a fuck, you show disrespect you get disrespected. And him ratting? I don't see marty ratting anybody considering everything hes been through. None of that makes him p.c/goof. Just calling him a goof cause he probably fucked you up .
truth set him free wrote on Thursday, September 24, 2015
Bud do you even know what your talking about, he's a lifer so that makes it right to jump people as to what he say's and feel's is right. He was a junkie piece of n.g shit and that's the bottom line. I bet God was just so happy to see him ....please save it.
wrote on Thursday, October 01, 2015
I spent time with him, I know him fairly well. He would jump people for disrespect. He was a lifer, he obviously got stressed out and angry easy, especially considering how ignorant some people are. Don't blame him for doing what he did. whats n.g? Still, jumping people for disrespect/being ignorant doesn't make him a p.c/rat/goof.
You probably got jumped by him and thats why you have this grudge against him.
Free is burning in hell right now wrote on Thursday, October 22, 2015
Bud if you don't know what N.G is you were never in prison in the first place so fuck off goof! Sound's like a outside gay lover/fan to me.
Final. Final wrote on Thursday, October 22, 2015
And for final he didn't jump me, I just know him, and did lot's of time around him unlike you. He was a monster who did monster thing's and if he's your hero kiler then your fucked too. I'm done talking to you. So just fk off I ain't answer this no more. Have a nice life loser.
uragoof wrote on Tuesday, October 27, 2015
So because I don't know N.G means i've never been to prison? And you still wont say what ng is. I just spend 2.5 years with the guy in drum, sure he freaked the fuck out sometimes, but as I said I would too after being in for so long. If I was never in prison how the fuck would I know him? How was he a monster? You've never given any examples besides jumping people, supposedly ratting to the man, and thats about it. That isn't very monsterish to me. Youre the fucking goof, can't even hold up your side of the argument and than just decide to stop replying, cause you know you got nothing on him . It really sounds like you were jealous of him for whaever reason, or he fucked you up or got you fucked up.
uragoof wrote on Tuesday, October 27, 2015
if by n.g you mean no good, than thats just your opinion, most likely because of what I've said before, jealousy, or you got fucked up. wouldnt surprise me if you were the one running to the man ratting on him because you got fucked up, or got bounced.
Hometown Ottawa wrote on Tuesday, December 22, 2015
Why is an Ottawa boy in drum when there's so many pens in Ontario? Think about it. Known him over 30 years. Turned himself into POS, no respect for him from home.
spirderman wrote on Friday, September 16, 2016
Well, I just read ye sorry bunch of cock lovers love letters from drum. I just can't seem to understand why ye bunch of cocksuckers would want to talk to each other when you get released. you must got good fucking cock up your hole.
You can call the institution and they can direct you on where to get the info that you need or possibly help you
Drumheller pen pack list.
I can't post pics here. Do you have a number or email to send it to
lolhey wrote on Tuesday, February 23, 2016
Would you be able to send me the list? My email is firstname.lastname@example.org
I need to put together a pen package for my husband in drum hellar penitentiary. Does anyone know what is allowed ???? Or have the list ???? He's been unable to call me for a while now . And I have a week left to do it please help!
chacha wrote on Friday, July 31, 2015
chacha wrote on Friday, July 31, 2015
Look under annex b under the medium colum
Mikiesma wrote on Sunday, August 02, 2015
I have it , I tried posting it on here, I will try again