They stuck me up in the control center again tonight. I guess it's good. I still need the experience. The place is becoming less scary to me now that I've been up there a few times.
And there's a chance that I'll get to do at least a six month stint up there. Poor Stubby is going out for some major back surgery and he might be out at least three months if he gets to come back at all. I am thinking about putting in a memo to the Major to take his spot until he returns.
Just thinking about it. I haven't made up my mind just yet.
Though it probably would do my bones some good to spend the winter indoors where it's warm.
Anyway, it was Vinnie and I and a fairly new Sergeant that I nicknamed "Nerves" for now. He'd only worked up there a time or two before and knew very little. Just how to run the panels and the doors and phones and such. I told him that we would take care of him.
I checked him out. Young guy. Kinda pretty. With one of those skater boy haircuts. Looked like he should be coaching volleyball or something. And he looked nervous. Hence the nickname.
Sgt Nerves had never been around either Vinnie or I vary much before. And never the two of us together. The two of us together are one dangerously bad joke machine. Like a badly made robot constructed of chain saws and rubber dog poop careening out of control through your living room, heading for the china cabinet.
At times he just sat there in his chair, his eyes moving back and forth between us like he was watching a tennis match as we did our jobs and kept up a steady stream of horrible jokes and gut wrenching puns. And his face had this rictus of a grin like he was inwardly screaming "What the snap did I do to deserve this? And who are these crazed maniacs?"
And of course that look on his face did little more than spur us on like wolves spotting a wounded gazelle.
He loosened up after awhile when it finally dawned on him that we were yanking his chain. And once he loosened up we relented a little and let him breathe again. By the time we left he was almost back to normal.
But I'll bet he felt like he'd been sandpapered all over and part of his brain was probably still curled in a fetal position sucking it's thumb and whimpering.
It was a cruel thing to do, but in the end he'll be the better man for it. Anything the inmates can dish out will seem like child's play after that.
It was a good day.
Tuesday they have me scheduled for the front desk again. Ah well. And on such a day as Plan Your Epitaph Day. It will also be the beginning of National Fig Week, All Saints Day, National Authors Day and Go Cook For Your Pets Day.
It's a Bacchanalia!
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