Hi, Mr. Milkovich.
Mickey's in Mexico. Fuck off, rectum boy.
I'm not here to see Mickey. I'm here to see you.
What, you trying to faggify all of us?
You don't faggify people. That's not how-- how much time'd you do in the pen?
Eighteen years, on and off.
How bad was it?
Depends on your definition of bad. Mouth-and ass-rapings-- which you'd probably enjoy-- beatings by the guards, food sucked--
You were mouth- and ass-raped?
You kidding? I did the raping. Milkoviches don't bottom.
Was Mickey adopted?
Fuck off, Gallagher.
Okay, rapings... food, guards-- I can handle that shit. I just need to know if--
Anyone can handle that shit. It's the boredom that'll kill you. Starts out, you're figuring out your surroundings. Then the day-to-day sets in. Start reading books, lifting weights, fuck a few of the pussy boys in the yard, but you're in the same place with the same assholes, doing the same shit every second of every hour of every day of every goddamned year. I was you, I'd pack my shit and run.
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