Ok, so I had an offender sing me a song today. That was different. Off and on I had hear them all yelling and cussing at each other in C-wing and when I went in to see if everything was okay, like I'm supposed to, a totally naked man stood at his cell window and made up an impromptu song about me walking around with my coffee cup in my hand.
That was certainly different.
He's one of our problem children. I'm sure I've blogged about him before. One of our secretionary artists. A man who really puts himself into his work. So to speak. And you never know how he's going to be. One day he'll be promising me a 1957 chevy and a million dollars and the next day he'll be threatening to have me killed or do it himself. You just never know with him.
The song was a nice changeup. Threw me a bit off balance and for a change, I left the wing with a smile, albeit a bit of a puzzled one, on my face. He sang about my coffee and the fact that I brewed it myself because I like it that way. He sang about my hat and my moustache and my tattoo and he asked me lyrically if I could give the guy in the cell next door some toilet paper because he didn't have any. And he sang to me around the wing as I did my checks and he sang me out of the wing and wished me to have a nice day.
Okay, it wasn't the greatest song in the world.
Grammy material it wasn't.
I can't even imagine Pat Boone doing a cover of it. Even if he did do "Crazy Train".
But it was nice, none the less.