A grunt and a light fart. As PrisonMike slowly sat up in his dirty motel bed, he knew today was the day. He had been anticipating this day for the past several months and it had finally arrived.

After a quick stretch he rummaged through his suitcase. Not pleased with what he found, PrisonMike decided to face the day without clothes. He always liked the freedom of being nude and unrestricted by clothing. Although, he did find a rather luxurious leather belt he had stolen the previous day and figured it would suffice. Once he secured the belt firmly across his forehead, he stepped out of the sleazy motel room and into the pleasant morning sun.

Strolling down the street he noticed bystanders looking at him with disgusted faces. 'Maybe I chose the wrong belt color,' he thought as he crossed the intersection. Regardless, he was unfazed. Today was his day and he wasn't about to let that go.

As PrisonMike made his way closer to his favorite breakfast eatery, he noticed something shiny in a window display case from across the street. He did have plenty of time to kill before his local crew's meeting, so he decided to have a look at what caught his eye. After crossing the busy street he stepped up to the window. Inside the case sat a used toaster. PrisonMike immediately decided to enter the store and purchase his fantastic find. Tragically, the store wasn't open for business yet. This infuriated PrisonMike. He is a man of simple pleasure. He loves a good piece of toast, and he is also very impatient. He did the only thing he knew how to do. Calmly, he found a brick in a nearby alleyway and hurled it through the store's window. After grabbing the toaster, PrisonMike sprinted as fast as he could back to his motel.

It turns out a naked man with a belt around his head carrying a toaster is quite a spectacle. Police quickly detained him after witnesses led them back to the shady motel a few blocks away.

PrisonMike was thrown in the slammer.


 

PrisonMike heard his cell door creak open as he stirred from a nap. In the doorway stood Warden Dick Chompkins. "Get outta here ya filthy animal," the warden shouted. PrisonMike raced through the doorway, high fiving the warden mid-stride. 'That guy has lost it,' Warden Dick Chompkins thought to himself as he saw PrisonMike sprinting down the cell block and out into the free world.

Back on the streets, PrisonMike knew he was not safe. Used toaster thieves are quickly dealt with in the world of mafiosos. Plus, it did not help that PrisonMike got a sketchy tattoo of a toaster on his arm. Now he was just asking for trouble. He did happen to find a decent apartment flat to rent out in an upscale section of the city.

Toaster on arm and gun in hand, PrisonMike made his way around town carefully the next couple of days. He knew toaster justice could strike at any moment and tried to mentally prepare himself for the situation.

Late one night PrisonMike was awoken by three heavy knocks on his door. Without time to think, he wrapped a belt around his head and grabbed his gun. Through the peephole, PrisonMike could make out a dark figure outside of his door. Before he could react, the door was kicked in, bonking PrisonMike on the forehead as it fell. "A LITTLE WARNING WOULDN'T HURT!" he exclaimed as he quicky stood up. As he came face to face with the intruder PrisonMike dropped his gun. It was the President of the United States.

"PrisonMike, we need your help," the president explained. "There have been a series of toaster thefts from the federal buildings in Washington. You are the only person with specific knowledge of this behavior that could help us. We will call it Operation Buttery Goodness."

PrisonMike weighed his options. This was the opportunity he needed to change his life around for the better. No more prison cells and corrupt judges. On the other hand, all he knew was crime. Could he really change his ways?

Without hesitation, PrisonMike stripped the belt from his head and slapped the President with it. He then turned and exploded through his window, making his way down the fire escape.

Federal agents were outside the apartment building and reacted quickly.

PrisonMike was thrown in the slammer.

 

Oh, PrisonMike how will we ever keep you free!

PrisonMike changed my life, I see things in so many different ways since speaking with him.

RIP PrisonMike, you lived too dangerously for your own good.

The world has lost a great man with great vision.

I heard prison mike asked to be buried in his old jail cell and he said it's because that was his true home.

Shame he die so quick i was looking forwards to see the rest of is day

his day *

Zombie awakes from her eternal resting to make her way to the streets to pay homage to her lost family member gunned down by the FBN.

PrisonMike taught me about life more than most would be able to. He didn't waste time with the petties, he went straight for felonies. His only mission in life was to do crimes. He didn't know what life on the outside was like after his multiple stints in the joint. He was a ladies man and a street scholar.

Thank you PrisonMike for everything you have done for us.

The President of the United States decided to force PrisonMike into cooperating. As it turns out, he did not have a real choice. PrisonMike knew the consequences of living on the edge, and the President was his only ticket to a new life. He had lived the life of crime and deceit for too long and could no longer keep it up...or so he thought.

"PrisonMike, listen. I'm going to give you one chance to cooperate. Do you know what they do to used toaster thieves in a federal prison? Just help us and you will be given immunity to your past crimes and will receive great respect from your local and state authorities," the President said as he slammed a clipboard on the dusty interrogation room table.

PrisonMike listened carefully before replying. "Mr. President, I'm going to help you but with one condition. I require a fleet of vehicles and a warehouse to operate out of, as well as four pizzas for me and my brethren. Also, a fine leather belt."

"Listen, you are in no spot to negotiate but as I have no other choice, I will grant you what you wish. We need to get to work on Operation Buttery Goodness as soon as possible. Our toasters are disappearing left and right from our federal offices. PrisonMike, what ever will we do to fight this?", the President inquired.

"Our best bet is organizing a sting, of sorts. We will need to strategically position top of the line, premium stainless steel toasters through Washington, the kind with space for FOUR slices of bread. They are highly sought after in the criminal underworld and should lead us to who's behind this.", PrisonMike explained. 

After settling the minor details of the operation, PrisonMike shook the President's hand on the White House steps and was escorted into his federally granted towncar. PrisonMike took this deal very seriously. He had slipped up in the past too many times to count. This was his shot at a better life. 

The federal agent drove PrisonMike to his requested warehouse where the real planning could begin.