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Written for Challenge #155: Socks! at hardtime100.
Hope It Doesn't Have a Hole In The Toe
His sponsor was old, all kinds of silver in his hair, lines around eyes that were hard like stones. Had to be at least forty. Tony lifted his chin up; he could take him, an old guy like that. Better not try anything.
"Watch and learn, kid, if you want to keep your ass cherry." He eyed Tony. "If you still have one."
"I ain't no fag. And I can take care of myself," he bristled.
Beecher picked up a tube sock, held it up for Tony to see. Then he took a bar of soap and stuffed it down.
"Take this to the shower with you. Aim for the face."
Reluctantly, Tony took the sock, nerves crawling his gut. Might be a good idea to keep it around. Beecher crawled onto the top bunk, picked up a magazine.
"Tomorrow, I'll teach you how to make a shank."
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