You Don't Know Me

I've written alot about kites, and how the inmates send these notes back and forth. Sometimes they are for staff and sometimes they are for other inmates. I've had many a good time reading some of these. Especially the ones we aren't supposed to intercept.

And I've written about check-ins. About how they can declared protective custody and get moved to another cell. Sometimes the combination of kites and check ins can be a hilarious recipe.

There's a simple equation for writing a check in note. It has to include the authors name and inmate number, the cell and the inmate name and number of whoever they are declaring protective custody from. And it also has to include some variation of the phrase "I fear for my life."

Otherwise we are just going to chuckle and ignore it.

So last night BG comes in and hands Sarge a note. He says "Some guy wants to move. I don't remember who gave it to me."

Sarge reads the note, snorts and hands it to me.

It reads:
"I think it's time for me and my celly to separate. We are getting along fine but I think we need to be in different cells. I'd like to move to D-2."

And that's all it says.

No name.

No number.

No cell.

So the note goes into the trash. Like so many have gone before it.

I wonder if the guy is still sitting in the cell with his property packed up waiting for us to move him.

It wouldn't surprise me.

As Vinnie so adroitly pointed out, there's no lack of stupid people inside or outside of the wire.

Business is good and my employment is assured.