Showing posts with label odd night. Show all posts
Showing posts with label odd night. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

A Strange Wind A'Blowin'

It was just an odd day. I'll give you some details but when it comes right down to the brass tacks of it.... it was just an odd day.

Started out just busy busy busy as hell. There were releases in the hall and lockups in the sallyport and lockups on the benches and files and bags of property hip deep in the office. Threw in and helped lock people up and put things away and get squared away for shift change. Alot of work, but everybody was working (pretty much) so I didn't mind helping out.

When we were picking up the trays after dinner I caught a whiff of a pretty strange yet not unfamiliar odor coming from one of the cells. Snif! Snif! Yup.... they were smoking summa that there whacky tabacky for sure! Call the Sarge up and we searched but it was either gone or hidden in a place I sure wasn't sticking my hands into. No evidence left other than the smell so there was nothing we could do.

We get out on the rec yard and there's a large horse fly in one of the rec cages. And the inmate in there (who calls himself a hillbilly) is afraid to pick it up. Doesn't know if they bite or sting and doesn't even know which end it's head is! What kind of hillbilly is that?

He finally manages to get it picked up by the wings and the guy in the next cage says "Good thing it was dead or it might have got away from you!"

Silliness.

We finally get done with rec and Sarge and the guy I was working with (not Chuck or BG but some very odd little utility) were standing in the office shooting rubber bands at each others crotch. I sat there doing the rec files while rubber bands were flying past my head in their extremely silly macho game. Silly esecially for the utility, because everyone knows that Sarge feels no pain. He's like Ben Grimm (The "Thing" from the Fantastic Four) with the sense of humor of Bozo the Clown. Little utility dude was limping noticeably on the way out.

And after I turned in my radio and keys and was on my way out the door, one of the cats up front holds up a large cucumber with a rubber glove pulled over the top of it with a weird face drawn on in ink. He waves it at me and says "Bye now!" in a sqeaky cartoon voice.

Not all of the wobbleheads are behind the cell doors.

And I'm pretty sure I'm one of them.