Every day, except Sundays, we have to sort and deliver mail to the offenders in the Hive.
We don't like it, but we do it anyway.
As far as I'm concerned, if they want things like mail and visits and recreation and phone calls, they can learn to behave themselves and get out of the Hive and back out on the hill with the general population.
But I'm not in charge here. I just do what I'm told.
Mostly, anyway.
One of the things we deliver alot of is overdue library book notices. They are so inconsiderate that they don't go turn in their books before getting themselves locked up. That's just the caliber of inmates we have here in Raccoon City. Bastards.
Last week we had an inmate in from the "other" treatment house. Not the drug and alcohol treatment where Peggy Sue and Bad Actor spend their days, but from the sex offender treatment house. Things over there apparently got to be too much for him and he came down to the Hive on suicide watch.
He spent several days on suicide watch and a few days on close observation and he was released back to his house this morning to continue his "rehabilitation" of whatever it is they do over there.
Don't mind me, I have a bias when it comes to those guys.
At any rate, we got a piece of mail for this inmate in the mail today that said he had three overdue library books and that the library would like to have them back.
And just in case the titles had slipped his mind, it listed the books that he was tardy in returning:
1. How To Win Friends And Influence people. <-- Just the kind of thing we want a sexual offender reading, eh?
2. Dealing With Depression Naturally. <-- I guess he forgot to read that one.
3. The Complete Home Guide To Mental Health. <-- Maybe he should have read this one before he came to prison. And actually, that sounds like some kind of DIY for the brain thing. I wonder if it covers power drill trephination and do it yourself icepick lobotomies?
I couldn't help but laugh and shake my head, then laugh some more.
Maybe he just thought that they would look impressive on his coffee table.
Oh, to be a kid again
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When I was a child, I knew nothing about politics. My parents didn't even
vote. I think they finally started voting in the 70's. I was probably
five o...
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