
Yesterday when I came in one of the others started in on it again. Not exactly cutting himself, but scratching his arms deep enough to reopen his wounds and make them bleed a little bit. He keeps claiming he wants to kill himself, but does nothing but minor injury.
The little jagoff.
He tried the poop smearing thing and that didn't work. He tried the flooding his cell thing and that didn't work. He got nine days of the meal loaf and learned to eat it. Now he's doing this cutting himself with paint chips thing.
While they had him on the restraint bench trying to figure out what to do I really wanted to go down there and get in his face and ask "Why are you wasting my time? If you're going to do it, then do it. But quit playing at it, boy. You are pissing me off."
But that's just what he wants, apparently. I think he's under the same impression that Ol' Poop Boy was. If he acts up enough, we'll kick him out of prison just to get rid of him.
Not gonna happen. Nope.
So they finally decided to send him to the rubber room for a few days. The escort officer came down and got him in a coverall and shackled up waiting for his ride.
And he asked the perfect question: "Is this going to be like an infirmary?"
He thinks he's going to spend a few days in a real bed watching teevee with nurses watching over him and feeding him and tending to his wounds.
The fool.
He's going to spend a few days in a six by nine room with soft rubber walls wearing nothing but a paper gown. Being watched by officers who will spray him if he does anything stupid.
I hope it's an eye opener. We'll see, I guess.