The Search For Spork

No... no... no..... Not Spock!!! Jeez...... Hang on a second..... Ah, here we go then.....



Spork. An online dictionary describes a spork as: a plastic eating utensil having a spoonlike bowl and tines.

All of the sudden, they have decided to send us sporks with our meals. Sporks made of a soft plastic that you can bend with one finger. I guess they started it at lunch today. And when the lunch utensils were sent back to the kitchen, they counted them (I'm sure I don't know why) and discovered that we were ten sporks short of a full load.

I could have told them that without all the hoopla.

After decades of send us nothing but spoons, they decide to send us sporks and then they throw a fit when some of them end up missing. Go figure. They leave the yards closed and they send all of the yard dawgs down to search the Hive for ten sporks.

When BG and I got there they had finished searching A and B wings. They had only found six at that point. Luckily, by the time we got to D-wing someone figured out what they were looking for and we found the other four mysteriously laying out on the walk.

Let's see: six officers and one sergeant and ten and fifteen cents an hour (before taxes) for two hours, that's a dollar-fifty. To find ten sporks that maybe cost the state a dime apiece.

They could have saved the state fifty cents if they would have just let the idiots have them.

What a place. That was how our day started.

It ended when we walked away from the place. Some wobblehead in C-1 had started screaming at the top of his lungs right after dinner and hadn't stopped as we left. We all piled into the wing when it was time to give him his meds and he had thrown what we hoped was water all over the place and was still screaming. Sgt Miz P shook her head and said "That door isn't coming open tonight."

Thank the gawds for her. That probably would have went bad quick.

Happy monday. May the spork be with you.