Chapter XIVCentral Mississippi Correctional Facility
Pearl, Mississippi
March 10 – March 11, 2012
Clarice's b*a was a Bob Barker's piece of crap. The tag said it was made in Pakistan. Her mind couldn't help cuing sweat shop clichés with kids and old ladies laboring over sewing machines twenty hours a day for pennies. If someone told her the little bastard that made this b*a was a terrorist infiltrator Clarice would believe them. This damn thing terrorizes her. It cuts and scrapes and makes her bleed as if she had been hit by IED shrapnel.
She lifted the straps off each of her shoulders, hissing at the blisters and raw skin that had accumulated from shadowboxing every day. And as for the underside of her boobs… The wire in the cups felt like warped barbed wire, grating her puppies in an
