Bill Morris was a volunteer fireman in Tecumseh, his home town. If they had a volunteer police department he would have joined that as well. Bill purchased the flashing lights to adorn his pick-up, hoping to put them to use frequently. When those hopes did not produce emergencies to which he could respond on a daily basis, he began to create his own. Bill abused his cherries. He started pulling people over, and just used them when he was in a hurry. The local authorities put him on “cherry probation” for six months. The primary reason was that he impersonated a Crisis Negotiation Team (CNT) member.
Johnson County and Pawnee County shared a dispatcher on third shift. Morris had his scanner going all night, and picked up something regarding a hostage situation from the other side of the next county. He raced to the scene, and claimed that he would handle it. Thank God nobody died.
Other than his need to be a hero, Morris had a need to have friends. He wanted friends so badly, he would buy you drinks all night, if you would just sit with him and listen. The trouble was he had no money. His wife was bleeding him dry, so he hung out with Pat Nodal, another dork that nobody wanted to be with. The two of them frequented Sun Valley on bowling night, thinking it made them look like part of our group. The only time I spoke to them was when Nodal offered to buy drinks. The first time he did, I accepted the offer, only to observe Morris sampling my beverage.
“Morris, now that one is yours. Pat, where is my drink?”
“I just sent it down to you.”
“Your duck just sampled it. I don’t know where that face has been.”
“Bill, you fucker, you owe Batiste a drink.” “I don’t have any money.”
“You’re shut off then.”
“Pat, do I get a drink or not?” “Not on my tab.”
That was the last time I tried to appease those losers. Morris is such a mooch he even steals food at work. I am not just talking about facility food intended for inmate consumption; I am referring to co-worker’s lunch boxes, and private stashes in filing cabinets.
“Batiste, what the fuck was that note about?” “What the fuck are you talking about?” “The note in the bottom of your oatmeal box.” “My oatmeal box?”
“Yah, the empty one with the note in the bottom.” “What did the note say?”
“You know what it says, you wrote the mother fucker!”
“You mean the one in MY oatmeal box?” “Yah.”
“It’s about just what it says. Hey! Morris the Mooch, buy your own God Damn food!”
The following bowling night, Pete Jimenez, a team member, informed us that he would soon be promoted to second shift and would have to temporarily stop bowling.
I told a stupid joke about LBFMs. I get the look because Pete is half Mexican and half Filipino. Despite his lack of military service, Pete knew that LBFMs meant little brown fuckin’ machines. I apologize, and change the joke to represent Koreans. G-Rad reminds me that the joke is still a little too close to home. Pete says, “I’m not Korean; I could give a fuck about those slant-eyed little bastards.”
That is when it happened. G-Rad introduced me to Linda. She was a frequent observer of the bowling events, though I am not sure bowling balls are the sort and size she preferred viewing the most. G-Rad informed me that she had an ex-husband in prison, and somebody that was writing her letters, and that I should talk to her while he went to get us a couple of drinks. I initially thought G-Rad was dumping his trash on me.
Linda began to talk. I began to listen. She carried on for five minutes about how she wanted her husband dead, and how she had lost over a hundred pounds recently. I did not care because she looked really good with her clothes on. Linda had that look in her eyes, a stupid, empty, wild look that meant she would be exceptionally experimental in the sack, doing some crazy shit to impress you in the hopes that you had not done it before and would come back for more. She was about 55 but very health conscious. She still had some weight left over in just the right places.
That is when Linda went into some cockamamie story about how she was receiving mail from an inmate that used to stalk her. I convinced her that I could take care of it, for a price. That is when she began to fall for my lines and asked if I could do something about her ex-husband, who was also an inmate. After beginning to ponder over the class of this lady, I rationalized to myself that I really had no control over such things at all, but I continued to convince her that I had enormous pull. Linda confided in me that she wanted her ex-husband dead. That is right, graveyard dead. She did not care how it was done, but she wanted him dead. I lied to her that I could get that arranged. Then I took the big risk.
“You’ll have to pay me in pussy.”
The first words out of her mouth were, “Okay, mine, or would you like something younger? I have two daughters, and they could probably be convinced to participate. They are in their early 20s. I hope that is not a problem.”
“We will negotiate those details later, but I would like to meet them. I have a few conditions though. I do not want your daughters to have any knowledge of our discussions and why this bargain is being made. The fewer people who know about this the better. Also, I am going to expect multiple and simultaneous payments upfront.”
“That will not be a problem. Do you want to begin taking payments this evening?”
“Are your daughters home, or will it be just you?”
“I can call them on their cell phones and tell them what to expect.”
“Do you have photos of them with you? I’m not just going to take payments from anybody. They’d better be attractive.”
She took a pink wallet out of her purse and said, “I’m sure you’ll be pleased.”
6Now these things became our examples, to the intent that we should not lust after evil things as they also lusted.
7And do not become idolaters as were some of them. As it is written, “The People sat down to eat and drink, and rose up to play.”
8Nor let us commit sexual immorality, as some of them did, and in one day twenty-three thousand fell;
9Nor let us tempt Christ, as some of them also tempted, and were destroyed by serpents.
10Nor complain, as some of them complained and were destroyed by the destroyer.
11Now all these things happened to them as examples, and they were written for our admonition, upon who the ends of the ages have come.
12Therefore let him who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall.
13No temptation has overtaken you except such as is common to man; but God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will also make the way of escape, that you may be able to bare it.
“Every time there is an awkward silence, a gay baby is born.”
“You’re assuming gays are born that way.”
Johnson County and Pawnee County shared a dispatcher on third shift. Morris had his scanner going all night, and picked up something regarding a hostage situation from the other side of the next county. He raced to the scene, and claimed that he would handle it. Thank God nobody died.
Other than his need to be a hero, Morris had a need to have friends. He wanted friends so badly, he would buy you drinks all night, if you would just sit with him and listen. The trouble was he had no money. His wife was bleeding him dry, so he hung out with Pat Nodal, another dork that nobody wanted to be with. The two of them frequented Sun Valley on bowling night, thinking it made them look like part of our group. The only time I spoke to them was when Nodal offered to buy drinks. The first time he did, I accepted the offer, only to observe Morris sampling my beverage.
“Morris, now that one is yours. Pat, where is my drink?”
“I just sent it down to you.”
“Your duck just sampled it. I don’t know where that face has been.”
“Bill, you fucker, you owe Batiste a drink.” “I don’t have any money.”
“You’re shut off then.”
“Pat, do I get a drink or not?” “Not on my tab.”
That was the last time I tried to appease those losers. Morris is such a mooch he even steals food at work. I am not just talking about facility food intended for inmate consumption; I am referring to co-worker’s lunch boxes, and private stashes in filing cabinets.
“Batiste, what the fuck was that note about?” “What the fuck are you talking about?” “The note in the bottom of your oatmeal box.” “My oatmeal box?”
“Yah, the empty one with the note in the bottom.” “What did the note say?”
“You know what it says, you wrote the mother fucker!”
“You mean the one in MY oatmeal box?” “Yah.”
“It’s about just what it says. Hey! Morris the Mooch, buy your own God Damn food!”
The following bowling night, Pete Jimenez, a team member, informed us that he would soon be promoted to second shift and would have to temporarily stop bowling.
I told a stupid joke about LBFMs. I get the look because Pete is half Mexican and half Filipino. Despite his lack of military service, Pete knew that LBFMs meant little brown fuckin’ machines. I apologize, and change the joke to represent Koreans. G-Rad reminds me that the joke is still a little too close to home. Pete says, “I’m not Korean; I could give a fuck about those slant-eyed little bastards.”
That is when it happened. G-Rad introduced me to Linda. She was a frequent observer of the bowling events, though I am not sure bowling balls are the sort and size she preferred viewing the most. G-Rad informed me that she had an ex-husband in prison, and somebody that was writing her letters, and that I should talk to her while he went to get us a couple of drinks. I initially thought G-Rad was dumping his trash on me.
Linda began to talk. I began to listen. She carried on for five minutes about how she wanted her husband dead, and how she had lost over a hundred pounds recently. I did not care because she looked really good with her clothes on. Linda had that look in her eyes, a stupid, empty, wild look that meant she would be exceptionally experimental in the sack, doing some crazy shit to impress you in the hopes that you had not done it before and would come back for more. She was about 55 but very health conscious. She still had some weight left over in just the right places.
That is when Linda went into some cockamamie story about how she was receiving mail from an inmate that used to stalk her. I convinced her that I could take care of it, for a price. That is when she began to fall for my lines and asked if I could do something about her ex-husband, who was also an inmate. After beginning to ponder over the class of this lady, I rationalized to myself that I really had no control over such things at all, but I continued to convince her that I had enormous pull. Linda confided in me that she wanted her ex-husband dead. That is right, graveyard dead. She did not care how it was done, but she wanted him dead. I lied to her that I could get that arranged. Then I took the big risk.
“You’ll have to pay me in pussy.”
The first words out of her mouth were, “Okay, mine, or would you like something younger? I have two daughters, and they could probably be convinced to participate. They are in their early 20s. I hope that is not a problem.”
“We will negotiate those details later, but I would like to meet them. I have a few conditions though. I do not want your daughters to have any knowledge of our discussions and why this bargain is being made. The fewer people who know about this the better. Also, I am going to expect multiple and simultaneous payments upfront.”
“That will not be a problem. Do you want to begin taking payments this evening?”
“Are your daughters home, or will it be just you?”
“I can call them on their cell phones and tell them what to expect.”
“Do you have photos of them with you? I’m not just going to take payments from anybody. They’d better be attractive.”
She took a pink wallet out of her purse and said, “I’m sure you’ll be pleased.”
6Now these things became our examples, to the intent that we should not lust after evil things as they also lusted.
7And do not become idolaters as were some of them. As it is written, “The People sat down to eat and drink, and rose up to play.”
8Nor let us commit sexual immorality, as some of them did, and in one day twenty-three thousand fell;
9Nor let us tempt Christ, as some of them also tempted, and were destroyed by serpents.
10Nor complain, as some of them complained and were destroyed by the destroyer.
11Now all these things happened to them as examples, and they were written for our admonition, upon who the ends of the ages have come.
12Therefore let him who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall.
13No temptation has overtaken you except such as is common to man; but God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will also make the way of escape, that you may be able to bare it.
“Every time there is an awkward silence, a gay baby is born.”
“You’re assuming gays are born that way.”
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