I own no part of Yu-gi-oh.

This is my second fanfic. Lets all hope it doesn't get erased.

Enjoy.

Death Row, Next in line speaking...

Chapter 1: Un-sanitary Confinement

Ok, picture this. Me, and Officer Banero walking down the halls of a prison. Me in a bright orange outfit and handcuffs and Banero and all of his fat, moustache-ness, in a police uniform walking me down the hall. He talking to me, me not giving a flip about what he says. Walking past a bunch of maniacs in solitary confinement. What a happy picture.

"Here's your solitary confinement room. Number 13, how lucky can you get?" Officer Banero directed me inside. "Let's hope you'll think about what you've done over the next 2 days here." He took my handcuffs off, turned on his heel and shut and locked the door behind him.

"Let's hope you can think about what you've done." I mimicked him in a winy tone.

Man that guy bugs the crap out me.

Speaking of crap lets see my room. I took a look at my wonderful home for the next two days. The place could use a major redecorating.

Crapy sink.

Crapy toilet.

Crapy bed with crapy pillow and crapy brown blanket.

How lucky can you get?

I walked over to the sink and turned on the faucet to wash my hand. Banero's hands were really sweaty and really nasty. You get it right? Well, I turned he faucet, and the water was yellow. NASTY! Even the water is gross. I turned the faucet off. My hands are probably cleaner now than if I washed my hands. I looked at the soap, it had been used, and it had hairs in it. Disgusting. I look at the toilet. Bad idea there. It was so gross I couldn't even look at it. Or for that matter, sit on it.

I was thinking about all that then I realized I couldn't take a shower for two days. Ew. And I was already feeling nasty. I could try to wash myself with the sink . Then I thought about the yellow water. I sighed.

"What a perfect end to a perfect day." I said to my self. "I wonder what time it is."

It was probably about ten or eleven-ish. I was tiered. It had been a rough day. I walked over to the bed mounted to the wall and sat on it. It was about as nice as sleeping on a coffee table. But the advantage of a coffee table was you could spread out. Two annoying boards were preventing that. I laid down. The sheets and the pillow smelled like sweat and pee all mixed together in one nauseating smell. I closed my eyes and let the day sink in. I just realized how bad it was. Brilliant.

I'm Rita Gandhi. And I'm a 15-year-old serial killer.

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Tune in for the next chapter!

Chapter 2-the Happy Helpers Club.