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Believe it or not, that's actually pretty self-explanatory.
Season's Greetings
IM: Merry fucking Christmas, motherfucker!
Ever wonder why there aren't any Christmas specials set in a prison?
Dick Clark's F'ing New Year's Eve...
IM: Happy Goddamn New Year, you fucking fag.
Yes, clearly 2010 is going to be... pretty much the same around here. I can't wait til Valentine's Day.
Speaking of Holiday Specials...
So Christmas Eve there was pretty much zero visibility thanks to a driving snowstorm. I had a couple of inmate custodians out front shoveling the sidewalk to the cellhouse.
IM: Man, Rudolph is gonna be a fuckin pimp tonight.
IM: Hell yeah.
Ah yes, just like in the timeless Christmas classic.
Rudolph the Pimpin' Reindeer
Has a stable full of ho's.
Got a chinchilla fur coat
and a diamond-studded nose.
Yeah... that's all I got.
The Prisoner of Asskaban
So I was shaking down an inmate's cell with another officer. I find a book titled "How to Turn Your Boyfriend Into a Toad," and it's full of spells. The only useful one I saw was "How to Get Rid of Noisy Neighbors." Meanwhile, my coworker asks me to look at something he found tied off in a plastic sandwich baggie.
CW: What the hell is that?
ME: Looks like a bead. On a string.
CW: What would he need that for?
ME: Um... I can think of one thing....
CW: No, no, that can't...
ME: Put that thing down already.
CW: Hold on, I want to look at this some more.
ME: See what it smells like.
CW: No way, you smell it.
ME: You found it.
CW: I'm going to hang onto it for now.
Back at the desk a little later...
CW: I'm going to open this bag, there some other shit in here.
ME: Dude, do it over there. I'm not going near that.
CW: *tears open baggie*
ME: Well, what is it? Other than the anal bead?
CW: There's like, some seasonings and some of his hair... Oh shit.
ME: Holy crap, it was a spell. You just broke it.
CW: Dammit. I didn't mean to. What do I do?
ME: Well, first, don't come near me. I don't want to get cursed.
CW: I think I'll be fine.
ME: Yeah, until you wake up tomorrow and your freakin face melts off.
CW: That would be awesome if I had to call in sick for that.
Lesson learned: consider that the strange object may be a scrying ball, especially if the inmate is wiccan. Fortunately, A) the inmate wasn't upset by it, and B) I think it's one of those things where it only works if you are a believer in the magic. Either way, his face is still intact. So far...
Kara from the Block
IM (rings into Control)
ME: Yeah?
IM: Yeah, turn my phone on, nigga.
Huhwha? Okay, just when I think I've been called everything. Oh wait, is this like, reverse derogatory slang day? Well, then, I'd be happy to turn on your phone, honky.
I am Evil
I brought in a few green tea bags to work one day. Brewed up some delicious tea, and near the end of my shift, I was struck by inspiration. I got a disposable glove and tore a finger off. I then patted a tea bag with some paper towels to get it semi-dry (or at least, not soaking wet). Then I tore open the tea bag and poured the contents into the finger, finally tying it off.
CW: That's just wrong.
ME: Wait til you see the best part.
I flung the bag out onto the floor near the door leading in and out of our side of the cellhouse. A few minutes later, they called Medication Line (where the inmates go to the clinic to get their meds). All of the guys who I thought would notice it, did. Surprisingly, a few I wouldn't have suspected did also. But it was damn funny watching them walk past it, stop, do a 180, lean in, look around, then get stuck in that "do-I-or-don't-I?" moment before moving on.
*sniff* That's Beautiful, Man
IM: For real though? Even though he weak and pussy-fisted and you crusty like pecan pie, I still got mad love for both y'all.
I am seriously, seriously, considering sending that in to Hallmark.
Don't Ask Don't Tell?
IM (to his neighbor): You know, if I was a girl, I'd be a good whore. I just know I would.
Right, so, instead of robbing a guy at gunpoint with your gang-banging buddies, the alternate-reality female version of you would have been highly paid to, uh, perform services until she eventually died of a crack overdose or every STD known to man. So basically, not only do you fail at life, but you fail at parallel opposite-gender alternate reality life as well. Your sucktitude has transcended time and space, making you some kind of... failurenaut. I honestly don't know whether to congratulate you or do the multi-verse a favor and put a bullet in your head.
Scary Burrito
IM: You want some of this?
ME: Nah, that's okay. I ate lunch before I came to work.
IM: Yeah, okay. You're just afraid of convict food.
ME *follows inmate to table where he and his friend start making burritos from various ingredients bought from the comissary*: I'll have you know, I'm not afraid of convict burritos. I eat at Taco Bell sometimes.
IM: *laugh*
IM2: Nah, they won't hire us anymore.
That's actually kind of shocking, if it's true. I mean, if ex-cons can't get jobs at fast-food restaurants, that pretty much leaves construction and drug dealing as post-incarceration career choices. No wonder they don't stay gone long.
It's Got Big Pointy Teeth!
I heard an inmate screaming. I was up in Control, so I hit the intercoms trying to find where it was coming from. I found him, and he's shouting for something to "get out." So I'm thinking he may be having some kind of mental health breakdown and called the floor.
ME: What is he yelling about?
SGT: Oh, there's a mouse in his cell.
ME: That's all?
SGT: Yeah, it keeps running under the door, then back out.
ME: Wow, big bad thug, huh?
SGT: He's standing on his desk screaming.
ME: That's like, the funniest thing ever. You think we could call down to laundry and see if we can get a skirt for him?
So, long story short, the SGT was able to catch the terrifying rodent of mass destruction with a well-timed drop of a cardboard box. Turns out it was a mole, and it was released outside. In the bitter, freezing cold. But, as my SGT was walking back to the house, I saw a small black shape scurrying along right behind her on the camera, no doubt to return to prey on unsuspecting convicts another day. This was actually the second time in 3 weeks that a mole was found in the cellhouse, and it was probably the same one.
And, by the way, before anyone thinks I'm being mean about laughing at the inmate's irrational fear of a tiny somewhat cute furry animal, I have a paralyzing fear of things that come equipped with wings and stingers (also: Junebugs *shudder*) and his freakout was nothing compared to the last time a bee flew into the open window of my car.
Penicillin: It's What's For Dinner
Another day in control, keeping an eye on two inmate custodians sweeping out front. I hear them on the intercom.
IM: I'm going dumpster diving.
IM2: Man, you're fucking stupid.
IM: Seriously, you can tell what's still good and what's bad. Like a lot of guys, they through out the whole sack [ - they get sack lunches every day -K ] so everything inside of it is okay.
So he finally finds... whatever treats he was looking for, put them in a plastic bag, and they go back inside. When he gets back to his cell, I just had to page him on his intercom.
ME: I hope to God you picked up a Medical Slip to go with that food you just took out of the trash.
IM: Nah, it's okay. I'll wash it off.
Oh. Well, then. That changes everything. Well, I'll leave you to it then. Have fun with all the gut-wrenching projectile vomiting and atomic diarrhea, which will probably both hit at the same time. That's okay though, you can probably just wash it off.
Thus concludes another exciting episode of Asshats Behind Bars And the Officers Who Have to Put Up with Them.
Season's Greetings
IM: Merry fucking Christmas, motherfucker!
Ever wonder why there aren't any Christmas specials set in a prison?
Dick Clark's F'ing New Year's Eve...
IM: Happy Goddamn New Year, you fucking fag.
Yes, clearly 2010 is going to be... pretty much the same around here. I can't wait til Valentine's Day.
Speaking of Holiday Specials...
So Christmas Eve there was pretty much zero visibility thanks to a driving snowstorm. I had a couple of inmate custodians out front shoveling the sidewalk to the cellhouse.
IM: Man, Rudolph is gonna be a fuckin pimp tonight.
IM: Hell yeah.
Ah yes, just like in the timeless Christmas classic.
Rudolph the Pimpin' Reindeer
Has a stable full of ho's.
Got a chinchilla fur coat
and a diamond-studded nose.
Yeah... that's all I got.
The Prisoner of Asskaban
So I was shaking down an inmate's cell with another officer. I find a book titled "How to Turn Your Boyfriend Into a Toad," and it's full of spells. The only useful one I saw was "How to Get Rid of Noisy Neighbors." Meanwhile, my coworker asks me to look at something he found tied off in a plastic sandwich baggie.
CW: What the hell is that?
ME: Looks like a bead. On a string.
CW: What would he need that for?
ME: Um... I can think of one thing....
CW: No, no, that can't...
ME: Put that thing down already.
CW: Hold on, I want to look at this some more.
ME: See what it smells like.
CW: No way, you smell it.
ME: You found it.
CW: I'm going to hang onto it for now.
Back at the desk a little later...
CW: I'm going to open this bag, there some other shit in here.
ME: Dude, do it over there. I'm not going near that.
CW: *tears open baggie*
ME: Well, what is it? Other than the anal bead?
CW: There's like, some seasonings and some of his hair... Oh shit.
ME: Holy crap, it was a spell. You just broke it.
CW: Dammit. I didn't mean to. What do I do?
ME: Well, first, don't come near me. I don't want to get cursed.
CW: I think I'll be fine.
ME: Yeah, until you wake up tomorrow and your freakin face melts off.
CW: That would be awesome if I had to call in sick for that.
Lesson learned: consider that the strange object may be a scrying ball, especially if the inmate is wiccan. Fortunately, A) the inmate wasn't upset by it, and B) I think it's one of those things where it only works if you are a believer in the magic. Either way, his face is still intact. So far...
Kara from the Block
IM (rings into Control)
ME: Yeah?
IM: Yeah, turn my phone on, nigga.
Huhwha? Okay, just when I think I've been called everything. Oh wait, is this like, reverse derogatory slang day? Well, then, I'd be happy to turn on your phone, honky.
I am Evil
I brought in a few green tea bags to work one day. Brewed up some delicious tea, and near the end of my shift, I was struck by inspiration. I got a disposable glove and tore a finger off. I then patted a tea bag with some paper towels to get it semi-dry (or at least, not soaking wet). Then I tore open the tea bag and poured the contents into the finger, finally tying it off.
CW: That's just wrong.
ME: Wait til you see the best part.
I flung the bag out onto the floor near the door leading in and out of our side of the cellhouse. A few minutes later, they called Medication Line (where the inmates go to the clinic to get their meds). All of the guys who I thought would notice it, did. Surprisingly, a few I wouldn't have suspected did also. But it was damn funny watching them walk past it, stop, do a 180, lean in, look around, then get stuck in that "do-I-or-don't-I?" moment before moving on.
*sniff* That's Beautiful, Man
IM: For real though? Even though he weak and pussy-fisted and you crusty like pecan pie, I still got mad love for both y'all.
I am seriously, seriously, considering sending that in to Hallmark.
Don't Ask Don't Tell?
IM (to his neighbor): You know, if I was a girl, I'd be a good whore. I just know I would.
Right, so, instead of robbing a guy at gunpoint with your gang-banging buddies, the alternate-reality female version of you would have been highly paid to, uh, perform services until she eventually died of a crack overdose or every STD known to man. So basically, not only do you fail at life, but you fail at parallel opposite-gender alternate reality life as well. Your sucktitude has transcended time and space, making you some kind of... failurenaut. I honestly don't know whether to congratulate you or do the multi-verse a favor and put a bullet in your head.
Scary Burrito
IM: You want some of this?
ME: Nah, that's okay. I ate lunch before I came to work.
IM: Yeah, okay. You're just afraid of convict food.
ME *follows inmate to table where he and his friend start making burritos from various ingredients bought from the comissary*: I'll have you know, I'm not afraid of convict burritos. I eat at Taco Bell sometimes.
IM: *laugh*
IM2: Nah, they won't hire us anymore.
That's actually kind of shocking, if it's true. I mean, if ex-cons can't get jobs at fast-food restaurants, that pretty much leaves construction and drug dealing as post-incarceration career choices. No wonder they don't stay gone long.
It's Got Big Pointy Teeth!
I heard an inmate screaming. I was up in Control, so I hit the intercoms trying to find where it was coming from. I found him, and he's shouting for something to "get out." So I'm thinking he may be having some kind of mental health breakdown and called the floor.
ME: What is he yelling about?
SGT: Oh, there's a mouse in his cell.
ME: That's all?
SGT: Yeah, it keeps running under the door, then back out.
ME: Wow, big bad thug, huh?
SGT: He's standing on his desk screaming.
ME: That's like, the funniest thing ever. You think we could call down to laundry and see if we can get a skirt for him?
So, long story short, the SGT was able to catch the terrifying rodent of mass destruction with a well-timed drop of a cardboard box. Turns out it was a mole, and it was released outside. In the bitter, freezing cold. But, as my SGT was walking back to the house, I saw a small black shape scurrying along right behind her on the camera, no doubt to return to prey on unsuspecting convicts another day. This was actually the second time in 3 weeks that a mole was found in the cellhouse, and it was probably the same one.
And, by the way, before anyone thinks I'm being mean about laughing at the inmate's irrational fear of a tiny somewhat cute furry animal, I have a paralyzing fear of things that come equipped with wings and stingers (also: Junebugs *shudder*) and his freakout was nothing compared to the last time a bee flew into the open window of my car.
Penicillin: It's What's For Dinner
Another day in control, keeping an eye on two inmate custodians sweeping out front. I hear them on the intercom.
IM: I'm going dumpster diving.
IM2: Man, you're fucking stupid.
IM: Seriously, you can tell what's still good and what's bad. Like a lot of guys, they through out the whole sack [ - they get sack lunches every day -K ] so everything inside of it is okay.
So he finally finds... whatever treats he was looking for, put them in a plastic bag, and they go back inside. When he gets back to his cell, I just had to page him on his intercom.
ME: I hope to God you picked up a Medical Slip to go with that food you just took out of the trash.
IM: Nah, it's okay. I'll wash it off.
Oh. Well, then. That changes everything. Well, I'll leave you to it then. Have fun with all the gut-wrenching projectile vomiting and atomic diarrhea, which will probably both hit at the same time. That's okay though, you can probably just wash it off.
Thus concludes another exciting episode of Asshats Behind Bars And the Officers Who Have to Put Up with Them.
although yes, it was very much evil.
There was a sketch of said reindeer with a furry hat with a big flamingo feather sticking out and jewel-encrusted antlers, but it no longer exists.
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