Exactly forty two more torturous minutes until he got satisfaction. He obsessively kept looking at the time on his little television screen.
Then, three Big Macs, four bags of burned French fries, and two extra large sodas, with three chunky chocolate chip cookies, would be arriving.
His small, smelly, solitary cell sat alone in a corner in the bowels of the prison. He could not be allowed nor did he want to be in the general population.
He was too hated for destroying the country.
He would be easy, high value, desirable prey.
Two different, muscular, serious men in suits would make each food delivery three times a day, everyday, without comment.
The men would return exactly thirty minutes after each feeding to take away the always empty, sloppily, crunched up garbage.
The waiting was excruciating for the man they named the monster.
The monster nickname was an oxymoron.
The other prisoners knew him to be a physical coward from the few times he was tested when he first arrived.
Then, the warden isolated him from all the other prisoners so he could be protected.
The big slob paced and drooled waiting to be fed.
His feedings were all he lived for now.
Obese, sloppy, prisoner 2016 sat listening for the footsteps alerting him to today's delivery.
The monster neither cared nor thought of anything else but the food that was coming.
He received very few visitors.
His life was miserable.
