Well, here we go again. A new Poop Boy in da' house!!! And not very artistic or original, either. Though you have to admire his convictions (so to speak).
He refuses to shower when we take him out to clean his cell, so he's still painted when he goes back into it. Bleagh. I'm surmising he's another one trying to prove that he's too crazy to be in prison and hasn't figured out that it doesn't work like that.
He can be coherent when he wants to be, or when he thinks we're not listening. But he's figured out that being coherent isn't going to get him out of the Hive, so he thinks being crazy will do it.
That's just not going to work out too good for him. I told him that while he was alternately painting the wall and himself. That nothing he was doing was startling or original and that he better find a new act. I said that the best one I saw was a guy who had written the first chapter of his autobiography on the wall in poop. So his random smearing was uninspired and just old hat. And I saw one guy who could stand in one place in the same pose for eight full hours so his "I'm not going to pay attention to you" act was just sort of pitiful.
He either didn't believe me or just wasn't listening. I didn't really care, either way. We cannot force him to shower. Unfortunately. When he develops sores from all of that, I'll remind him that he was offered a shower and it was his fault he didn't get clean.
Luckily for me, I didn't get picked for the cleanup crew. Chuck and the new kid got to suit up and do that. Since he had it all over him, they got to climb into the tyvek coveralls and the little booties with the face shields and go get him out for the shower. I stayed in the office under the air conditioner and answered the phones. It's probably the first time that I can recall that I didn't have to get involved.
BTW.... this was the second time today he had done that. Day shift was just getting done with one cleanup when we got there. Those poor biohazard schmucks are really starting to hate hearing us call, I'm sure.
This stuff is playing hob with my rec schedule, tho. The rec yard is outside of C-wing and we can't take the offenders through there when the bio guys are cleaning up the poop. They think I'm just being lazy and not doing any rec. Hell, if it was up to me, I'd take them right into that cell before taking them out on the rec yard. I've been down there so long that the smell doesn't even really bother me anymore. That, and I dab a little vicks under my nose before I go in there... nothing but a thing.
Ah well. Tomorrow's another day.
"The Call of the Riled" - By Jerry Zezima Stamford Advocate If you were to call me on my old iPhone to ask when telephone technology reached its peak, I would have told you it was th...
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