I was supposed to start out my day in the Moon Room. Also known a B-strips. Whenever inmates that work outside the prison come back in, they have to be strip searched.
And when I have to start my day by strip searching twenty or thirty guys who have been out mowing lawns and running weed eaters all day and they are all hot and sweaty and nasty....
Let's just say it puts quite a damper on my day. And my appetite, as well. Bleagh.
So when Lt Gerber grabbed me and said "I forgot that the visiting room staff is still here. They can handle the strips.", I was pretty happy about it. And he sent me out on B-yard to spend my friday evening. I could have kissed him, but he would have sent me someplace icky then so I left it alone.
With the added provision of course, that if anything were to happen then I would get pulled.
What I forgot was that both Sgt Uncle T and Goosey were off on fridays. We had Sgt Billygoat (I know it's not a real good nickname. trying to come up with a better one) and Uncle Scary and St. Francis.
At forty-six-seven-ish (I forget) I was the youngest one of the group. They all had me by a few years. That didn't happen very often.
What I forgot was when Uncle Scary and St Francis got together they were like Statler and Waldorf off of the Muppet Show. With maybe a dash of Don Rickles and Foghorn Leghorn thrown in for good measure. They rode around on the cart for awhile terrorizing the inmates and when they came back by Uncle Scary said "We just went from one end of the camp to the other and were rude to everyone we saw!"
Yeah, that's them.
I spent most of the evening listening to them two go at each other and everybody else in their "I'm a crotchety old guy and I can do what I want." thing. I couldn't hold a candle to either of them, even if I could have gotten a word in edgewise.
They'd rattle back and forth for awhile and now and then Uncle Scary would look at me and say "S'matter son? You sick? You aint talking!"
I'd just raise my hands and smile. "You old fellers go on. I'm just listening here."
That went on pretty much all evening.
It felt good to get back home where I could talk as much as I wanted to without being interrupted by somebody calling me "Son" or "Junior."
Even if everybody here is already asleep.
Chief cook and bottle-washer - *I take my job as Cliff's cook seriously. It's easy, really, since he likes almost everything in the way of food, and so do I. Anyway, since I'm the cook...
13 hours ago