The Saga of Dusty Costa... Part 7

   by Dustin Costa himself from prison in Colorado for growing pot in California

   It all started with a percolator that could heat thirty cups of water to just below the
boiling point.

   We used it for making coffee and for cooking commissary items like ramen noodles to supplement the substandard fare the jail provide.

   One day, an impoverished inmate who could not afford commissary food made a bet with several inmates that he could immerse his arm all the way to the bottom of the percolator and hold it there for thirty seconds.

   I made the mistake of trying to intervene, telling the man who was about to immerse his arm that he would suffer third-degree burns and likely wouldn't be able to keep his arm in there long enough to win the piddling seventy-five dollars worth of commissary.

   I was told in forceful terms to butt out, and if I didn't, I would get a beating. This was prison lesson number two; never get in the middle of someone else's hustle.

   (continued)