“Comb your hair; it looks like somebody had their way with you. You look like you should be standing next to a burning barrel.”
“Batiste, how long have I been workin’ for you?” “I’d say about as long as I’ve been employed here.” “S’pose you could do me a favor?”
“You know I don’t do favors for inmates.”
“Well, how about you do something for me anyway?” “Does it involve something within the boundaries of my
job description?” “That depends.”
“On what does it depend?”
“On your interpretation of your job description.”
“Andrews, what the fuck are you talkin’ about?” “Look man, I’ll just give you the down and dirty. I
spoke with my mother on the phone today, and she told me that my father is dying. I would really like to call the hospital and speak with him before he dies.”
“Have you filled out a kite for a time and charges call?”
“Man, you know they won’t approve that! They would never let me call a hospital.”
“Why the hell not? People do it all the time!”
“Cuz I lied about it last time, and made a prank call to somebody I din’t like.”
“Then how do you propose we make this happen?” “Man, I know that you know Chan. He’ll let you make
the call.” Chan was the operator, and all calls made external went through him.
“Yah, I know Chan, and he would probably allow me to do it, but I have too much respect for him to ask.”
“Then why don’t you do like Brisbane and bring me in a cell-phone?”
“No.”
“I’ll give you my fish sandwich. I know you like the fish sandwiches.”
“Dude, they went lowest bidder with those. Now it’s breaded bread or a fish-like substance. It’s not fish, its toilet paper rolled in saw dust. The illusion of fish is gone.”
“How about a bag of Doritos?”
“Look man, you know I like you, but I won’t risk my job for you. Think of a better option. Think of all your options. Then, pick the one option that is most legal and ethical. Then you come talk to me about making this call. Why do you want to call him anyway?”
“I want to yell at the rat bastard, and tell him I wish he would die more painfully. I want to tell him he’s a fucker for keeping me in a cage all those years. I want to remind him how much I hate his fucking guts. I want to tell him, if I ever get out of here, I’m going to dig him up and kick the living shit out of him.”
“Anything else?”
“Yah, I wanna tell him that I’m gonna carve “FUCKER” on his tomb stone.”
“Okay, what’s the phone number?” “I dunno, I’ll have to go look it up.”
“They better be Cool Ranch, and it better be the big bag!”
Dream Journal
As a kid, I was rarely in control of my dreams, but I always had a compulsion to fi nding out if I was dreaming so I could have some input. Checking to see if you are dreaming sounds diffi cult. People have been known to pinch themselves, or bark their shins intentionally on things. That never made sense to me because it would hurt like a bitch if you were awake, and maybe if you are dreaming. My researched, tried and true method has been checking my driver’s license. It is always in my back-left pocket. If the photo on the license is me, I am not dreaming. If it is not, well, you get the idea.
“She likes to stick things in my butt while we are in the sixty-nine position. When she is really good, I’ll let her go with one-knuckle-deep on the pinky finger.”
“Batiste, how long have I been workin’ for you?” “I’d say about as long as I’ve been employed here.” “S’pose you could do me a favor?”
“You know I don’t do favors for inmates.”
“Well, how about you do something for me anyway?” “Does it involve something within the boundaries of my
job description?” “That depends.”
“On what does it depend?”
“On your interpretation of your job description.”
“Andrews, what the fuck are you talkin’ about?” “Look man, I’ll just give you the down and dirty. I
spoke with my mother on the phone today, and she told me that my father is dying. I would really like to call the hospital and speak with him before he dies.”
“Have you filled out a kite for a time and charges call?”
“Man, you know they won’t approve that! They would never let me call a hospital.”
“Why the hell not? People do it all the time!”
“Cuz I lied about it last time, and made a prank call to somebody I din’t like.”
“Then how do you propose we make this happen?” “Man, I know that you know Chan. He’ll let you make
the call.” Chan was the operator, and all calls made external went through him.
“Yah, I know Chan, and he would probably allow me to do it, but I have too much respect for him to ask.”
“Then why don’t you do like Brisbane and bring me in a cell-phone?”
“No.”
“I’ll give you my fish sandwich. I know you like the fish sandwiches.”
“Dude, they went lowest bidder with those. Now it’s breaded bread or a fish-like substance. It’s not fish, its toilet paper rolled in saw dust. The illusion of fish is gone.”
“How about a bag of Doritos?”
“Look man, you know I like you, but I won’t risk my job for you. Think of a better option. Think of all your options. Then, pick the one option that is most legal and ethical. Then you come talk to me about making this call. Why do you want to call him anyway?”
“I want to yell at the rat bastard, and tell him I wish he would die more painfully. I want to tell him he’s a fucker for keeping me in a cage all those years. I want to remind him how much I hate his fucking guts. I want to tell him, if I ever get out of here, I’m going to dig him up and kick the living shit out of him.”
“Anything else?”
“Yah, I wanna tell him that I’m gonna carve “FUCKER” on his tomb stone.”
“Okay, what’s the phone number?” “I dunno, I’ll have to go look it up.”
“They better be Cool Ranch, and it better be the big bag!”
Dream Journal
As a kid, I was rarely in control of my dreams, but I always had a compulsion to fi nding out if I was dreaming so I could have some input. Checking to see if you are dreaming sounds diffi cult. People have been known to pinch themselves, or bark their shins intentionally on things. That never made sense to me because it would hurt like a bitch if you were awake, and maybe if you are dreaming. My researched, tried and true method has been checking my driver’s license. It is always in my back-left pocket. If the photo on the license is me, I am not dreaming. If it is not, well, you get the idea.
“She likes to stick things in my butt while we are in the sixty-nine position. When she is really good, I’ll let her go with one-knuckle-deep on the pinky finger.”
No comments:
Post a Comment