Three inmates were being transported to state prison. As part of a new “morale initiative,” each of them was allowed to bring one item to help pass the time behind bars.
Halfway through the long bus ride, one of the men leaned over to the other and asked, “So, what’d you bring?”
The second inmate proudly pulled a wooden case from his bag and flipped it open. Inside were brushes and tubes of oil paint.
“I’m going to paint,” he said confidently. “Landscapes, portraits—whatever I can find. I’ll be the next Picasso of Cell Block D.”
He grinned, clearly pleased with himself. Then he nodded toward the first man. “What about you?”
The first inmate reached into his duffel and pulled out a thick stack of playing cards.
“Cards,” he said with a wink. “Poker, blackjack, solitaire, rummy—I’ll never be bored.”
They both chuckled and then noticed the third inmate sitting quietly by the window, a smug little smile on his face.
“You’ve been awfully quiet,” the card player said. “What did you bring that’s got you looking so satisfied?”
The third man slowly reached into his bag and pulled out a large box.
He set it on his lap and turned it so they could read the label.
It was a family-sized box of tampons.
The other two stared at him.
“Tampons?” the painter asked, confused. “What on earth are you going to do with those?”
The third inmate tapped the side of the box and smiled wider.
“Right here on the back,” he said, “it says with these you can swim, ride horses, play tennis, and even go hiking.”
He shrugged casually.
“So I figure… I’ll be able to do anything.”
