When my cell mate said he was a spellmaster, I just thought that perhaps his elevator didn't go all the way to the top.

After a few weeks of garbled mumbling, he made me a deal: I'd swap him bunks, and he'd secure my revenge for the one who got me locked up: my stupid skank of an ex girlfriend

I figured, what the fuck, right? I had the time, and if nothing else, it would be a a break from the boring fuckery behind these walls. Besides, for a chance to honk those big knockers one more time, I could stand to crash on the bottom bunk.

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