It was like the odd "Night of the strange noises" all over again. Just one thing after another.
First thing out they send us and OJT out on the yard, since Sausage is a trainer and he can sign off on the kids book. The new kid calls him on the radio and completely slaughters his name out there on the open channel. You can hear snickers from all over the camp.
Sausage has one of those unpronounceable french sounding names that sounds like it should be an expensive cologne or fancy toilet paper. People get it wrong all of the time. But then I have a completely obvious name and they mispronounce it half the time too.
And most of the night Sausage got called different things on the radio and in person. Me, I stayed off the radio because my voice is distinctive (apparently) and everybody would know who did it.
Later on I'm out on the yard and a couple if inmates walk by and one says to the other "What do you think about that (I'm going to spell it as it sounded) tuh-saw-nuh-mee in Japan?"
It was so horrible that my mind refused to make the connection.
I just stood there, locked up, repeating: tuh-saw-nuh-mee.
Finally the little light blinked on in my head and I said "Oh snap! Tsunami!"
I wanted to run after him and beat the crap out of him for wasting three minutes of my life like that. Obviously he doesn't have a teevee and isn't real literate either. That made me head hurt.
Later on after the yards were closed we were all sitting in the shack and Sgt Uncle T's stomach starts rumbling hard and loud. Loud enough that it would drown out Sausage while he's talking.
And that takes some doing. I've heard Sausage drown out a thunderstorm before.
It seemed that something Sgt Uncle T ate wasn't agreeing with him at all. Not only was it not agreeing with him, it was arguing loudly and calling us all dirty names. It sounded like there were two pissed off cats with bullhorns in there going at it.
I offered him a Tums but it didn't seem to help much. It was kind of comical there for awhile until the pressure started bleeding off. Then we had to hastily abandon the shack. From a safe distance I offered him a pair of Stick-Ups or an Airwick Solid but he didn't seem too interested. So I just tossed a box of baking soda in the shack and fled for higher ground and didn't return until after count.
When I returned the box of baking soda had given up in despair and fled for it's life.
All in all, an interesting night. To say the least. And if nothing else it made me appreciate the fact that Sgt Uncle T doesn't use my bathroom.
Hmm... this is ominous. March 18th is Supreme Sacrifice Day. Now, I'd be more than willing to take one for a staff member in trouble, but I'm not quite ready to throw in the big towel just yet. Let's hope this day is misnamed.
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