I was born to fulfill a great destiny. To change the world. I am the reincarnate Gandhi.

Thing is, it’s hard to make much of a difference when you’re rotting away in a jail cell.

“C’mon man,” I shout at the guard. I’m banging on the steel bars, rattling the door. “You gotta let me outta here! Dis ain’t cool!”

“You there, be quiet.” The guard’s not happy.

“You don’t open dis door right now, and you gonna be hurtin’. You hear dat, bub? You be messing with the wrong guy now… Gandhi ain’t gonna take nothin’ from nobody.”

The guard comes over, but I don’t think he wants to chat. His hand’s on his nightstick. My hippie cellmate’s huddled in the corner, trying not to make eye contact.

“I told you, quiet.”

“I ain’t s’posed to be in here, man! I’m Gandhi. I gotta… a message I gots to get out to the peoples of the world. And folks like you always be keepin’ me down.”

“You killed three men.”

“I’ma make it four if you don’t get me outta here now.”

“Ha! Tell it to the warden.”

“That foo’s next. I’M GANDHI !”