Two guards led me in the front, two following in the back. Shotguns held erect and faces plain and bland they trudged on, me crammed in between.

They opened a cell door and I stepped in, checking out my home for the next 35 years. Ugh, it was pretty bland. That could be improved.

My name is Jack Moonsting. I’m 22 years old. Yes, I have done a few bad things in my life, and well, this time I got caught. Darn. But, as my grand mom always said,

“When life gives you lemons, even sour lemons, make lemonade.”

And that’s what I plan to do.