“Let’s see here, Butcher Sam…execution is on the fifth. Finally. Jackknife is still in solitary, bastard, a serial killer gets just to sit in silence for a month. Too damn good for him.” I puff out a plume of smoke out of my nostrils my laptop atop of my large bust acting like a shelf, and my huge gut acting as a counterweight. I take a puff of my cigar as I recline in my black iron chair. The whole jail is made of pure black metal looking akin to a furnace, making it look like a scene out of hell, just as I like it.