Well, if you have been reading, I had a pretty crappy day yesterday. One of the contributing factors was that my help (who shall remain nameless) bailed out on me. The finally scrounged around and sent me Wonder Boy from wherever he was perched for the night and sent him down to "help".
So I had to pick up all of the slack and chase around making sure that WB didn't screw anything up. Like he almost did when he went out to deliver the mail and gave some to a guy who was on suicide watch. Good thing we were watching the cameras. All of the sudden it was "Did he just give him some mail? Oh snap! Go get it back! Stop him!"
Yeah, it was like that.
But we survived and even managed to get some rec done.
But I was still grumpy most of the evening.
But I managed to end the evening with a giggle. We got a call about 9:00 pm that we were getting the Stork back from the wobblehead house. At least he was only going PC, and not suicide watch. I've seen that guy naked more times than I care to admit. He's probably a contributing factor to my weight loss.
You'd have to see the Stork to appreciate him. Maybe 5'6" and 100 lbs soaking wet. All skin and bones. He has this caveman brow and a low slung jaw that looks kind of scary at first glance. He's going to spend the rest of his life in prison because it's the only place he knows how to get around.
Kind of sad in a pathetic sort of way.
He looks like something Dr. Frankenstein would have made as a small working model for his monster. The conversation might have gone like this:
Dr. F: "I want to make something big and scary and strong! But first I want to make something small and ugly and weak so it doesn't break all of the stuff in my lab! Igor! What was the name on the brain you got for me?"
Igor: "Abbie Something, Doctor. Abbie Normal, I think."
Dr. F: "Perfect! We'll use that one."
(With props to the late great Marty Feldman)
Anyway, as I am getting ready to leave, they bring the Stork into the office in cuffs. Sarge says "Stork, what are you doing back down here again?"
He replies, "My cellie kept asking me for sexual favors, so I checked in."
Luckily and tactfully for me I ducked my face down behind my coat and faked a coughing fit to cover the cackling.
I cannot ever imagine being so desperate that I would ask for sexual favors from the Stork.
At least I managed to end the night with a smile.
"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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