Two journeys interrupted at the same time. Access denied for everybody involved. A shame, in a way. But probably a good thing in the long run.
Got a call during the dinner pass that the Warden and the Director Himself (Ooooooooooo!) were out roaming the camp and were probably headed in our direction. Snap!
Did a quick shufti 'round and made sure everything was secure and ship-shape. It usually is, but I thought I'd double check. Things were okay and all was running smoothly. I figured we would make a fair to good impression when the Large Toupees showed up.
Went out to feed the inmates on suicide watch their bag lunches and discovered one (we'll call him "Stork" because he looks like one) had wrapped something tight around his throat. He refused to remove it or come up and get cuffed, so I called for the sarge and we went in and took it off. He had tried to cut his wrist with a bent soda can the other day and the fine nurses wrapped about six feet of gauze around his wrist. And he naturally, took it off of his wrist and wrapped it around his throat.... the twit.
Nichevo! (Russian for "Snap!")
So we called a code 16 about an attempted suicide and got him taken out to medical and finally shipped out to a rubber room somewhere. All of us ended up doing paperwork and carrying evidence around...... screwed up the whole night.
And for some strange reason, the Warden and Monsieur Le Directieur turned around at that point and went the other way. Never made it down to our house. Too bad.
I was just working up a good "Disgruntled Employee" routine that might have at least scored us some supplies, if nothing else. I know we will never get paid what we are worth (or most of us, at any rate) but we could have at least had stuff to do the job for a bit. I was going to push to get the MK-9 foggers back in the house. I don't care what anybody says, apart from being able to carry a shotgun inside, those are an awesome deterrent to the shenanigans the inmates pull. You hose someone with one of those and the whole wing gets it. It's awesome. They tend to keep each other in line. And when a fogger pin gets pulled, everybody in the wing turns on the idiot acting up. Excellent.
Ah well. Nobody got what they wanted. At least not down in the Hive. Stork didn't get to die like he wanted and I didn't get to rant like I wanted.
But I made it back home in one piece.
That's all that really counts, isn't it?
Chief cook and bottle-washer - *I take my job as Cliff's cook seriously. It's easy, really, since he likes almost everything in the way of food, and so do I. Anyway, since I'm the cook...
13 hours ago