We have a new poop boy in the house again. Actually, it's an old one, up to his old tricks again.
We went out to rec at 2:00 and I heard some of the offenders saying that it smelled like poop in C-wing as we went through.
I couldn't smell a thing, as I have a bad cold or the flu or possibly anthrax or something. Whatever it is I got is harsh and kicking my butt and my head is full of snot. I guess that I am somewhat of a biohazard myself.
Not necessarily a bad thing today, but the headache and the chills and hot sweats are driving me crazy.
I didn't think anything about it until Chuck and the Cowboy went out to do med pass. They came back in saying C-10 had smeared poop on his cell walls and it really reeked in there. We figured we would have to do something eventually.
Then at dinner time BG came in and told me he wouldn't give his tray back up. I went and got Chuck and we went to his cell door. I told him to give me his tray and he said "No. I been telling you people all day that I am hearing voices and you won't do anything about it so f*ck y'all." I told him to come cuff up and he refused and wouldn't get off his bunk.
So I figured "What the hell?" If he won't get off his bunk then we have to go in. Unsnapped my pepper spray and signaled for the door to open. I could smell it a little (Theraflu is a mixed blessing) but it wasn't too bad. Chuck grabbed the tray and I covered him. Got the tray and shut the door. He had painted a nice abstract mural on two of the walls. Maye a little avant-garde. I don't know. When it comes to that sort of thing, I'm more of a minimalist.
So we had to get him out and get the cell cleaned up. A gaggle of Lieutenants came down and talked him in to coming out for a cleaning.
Here's how I know this punk is just doing it for the attention: All of the times he has smeared poop in our house, he has never got any of it on himself. He always uses a piece of paper or a scrap of sheet or a sock. But when he comes out of the cell, he's always clean. Well, as clean as an inmate can be I guess. The really crazy ones always get it all over themselves, too. We weren't paying him any attention so he decided to get some no matter what.
On the way out Ms. Dorothy told me about an offender out in GP who is actively dying of a couple of nasty never-get-over type diseases who is going from his house up to medical several times a day for last-ditch meds. I won't comment on how they are administering them. It's just..... never mind. And she told me that he gets sick several times a day in the house and out on the yard. So here he is spreading more biohazardous waste all over the camp and they won't put him in the infirmary because he can still walk from his house down to medical.
Isn't that nice?
Anybody need a job? This one stinks.
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