2300 Co Rd 29, Sandstone, MN 55072

Where Are You Going To Run!?

Since coming to prison, I have continued to see some peculiar, bizarre, and just off the wall type of shit. It is literally a daily form of comedy to walk around and see some of these shenanigans take place. It is people watching at it’s finest.

A recent occurrence was the motivation behind this post, and while it was all going down, I kept asking myself, “where are you going to run!?” To put all of this into perspective, I want to describe a guy to you that many people call Bunz. A name that I am reluctant to use considering we are in an all male prison, and Bunz as a peculiar connotation to it. (You can figure it out!)

As you can imagine, Bunz weighed 320-pounds and loved to eat. In fact, it was his affinity for honey buns that led to his infamous nickname Bunz. When guys would yell his name across the compound, I would always break out in laughter. I mean, he was a hard guy to miss. Walking around like a penguin, he had a very large and robust appearance. To maintain his stature and weight, he bought a lot of commissary. But to have lots of commissary, one must have lots of money.

Therefore, Bunz loved to hustle and grind. He loved the chase. Considering there are few opportunities to actually make good money in prison, he was one of few who established a gambling ticket. With a team to produce new lines every day, and runners to disperse and collect bets, he brought in a lot of stamps, the currency in federal prison. If done right, running a ticket can be VERY lucrative.

Not too long ago, the guards busted another ticket runner who had no limits on all bets. Meaning people could bet as much as they wanted to, which drew his profits through the roof. After they found his stash spot, they uncovered more than $25,000 worth of stamps. That’s right! 25k! All stuffed within empty coffee and rice bags. Look, there are ways to convert these stamps into cash, but when it comes down to running a ticket, you need lots of money (stamps) on hand to pay gamblers off who might hit big.

Which brings us back to Bunz. You see, you cannot just stuff all of these stamps inside your locker. One guy might hit for $1,000 and will have to be paid in over one-hundred flat books. Prices may vary, but that is a large stack of stamps. Knowing this, Bunz was headed to the gym to hand off a bundle of stamps one day when one of the guards yelled in his direction to see what he had in his hand. This made Bunz freak out as he was holding a sock full of stamps.

Instead of running around to face the guard, he sprinted into the gym. But it’s like where are you going to run!? This place is locked down really well and has not one, but two barbed wire fences surrounding the entire institution. You cannot run anywhere. But this didn’t stop Bunz from trying. As he ran into the gym, he was frantically searching for a spot to throw the stamps. He didn’t want to take a $1,000 loss.

As he hit the corner, another group of guards blocked him off, so he took a sharp turn for the stairs. Waddling up each step in a state of desperation, he finally reached the top when his belt buckle popped, and his pants fell to his ankles. This gave the guards the open window they needed to tackle him to the ground. As if in slow motion, the first guard chasing him jumped on Bunz as his boxers slid down and his bare ass (bunz) was on display for everyone to see.

He never got rid of the stamps. They were still in his hand when they tackled him. When they took Bunz to the hold, no one ever saw him again. For you must understand, Bunz, there is no where to run!

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