The Curse of the Egg McMuffin
It was announced on the television news that the new level of lower class is $820 bi-weekly. If you take home more than that in a two-week period, you are middle class, if you take home less, you are lower class. Perhaps our union members should take their pay stubs with them when they go to renegotiate our salaries. I wonder if those figures include benefits.
Tom Twombley was an extremely retarded inmate. The mental health folks claim he did not qualify for housing in the Regional Center because his IQ was too high. That may be true. His speech patterns made you think he was more retarded than he actually was. Walker could communicate with him well. It was actually a little scary.
“You do dirtwork! You dumb and stupey…not smart of honor like me.”
Walker is a young co-shirker who used to work for a roofing company. His specialty was spraying polyurethane foam on a flat roof. A special skill he gained from this experience was making bachelor furniture. Walker would make molds out of cardboard, shaped like a piece of furniture he wanted to place in his apartment. He would seal the cardboard mold with masking tape, and then proceed to fill the mold with polyurethane foam. It did not end there. Walker would then cover the foam with used fabric from real furniture to give it an honest, homelike touch. The furniture never lasted very long, but it sure was easy to move.
Walker’s specialty within the department was fucking with people. He had a genetically built in game that helped him fuck with inmates. Walker’s twin brother worked for the department over at the DEC, so every inmate that came to NSP had met his twin. When inmates would inevitably ask him if he had a brother or a twin, he had a variety of replies.
“No, you probably just saw my doppelgänger.” “What’s a doppelgänger? Sounds like a fancy name for a penis.”
“The term has come to refer to any double or look-alike of a person, most commonly in reference to a so-called evil twin.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” “Sometimes the word is used to describe a phenomenon
where you catch your own image out of the corner of your eye. In some traditions, seeing one’s own doppelgänger is an omen of death. A doppelgänger seen by friends or relatives of a person may sometimes bring bad luck, or indicate an approaching illness or health problem.”
“Ooh…I don’t feel so good.”
Walker did not limit his games to inmates. He particularly liked to screw with Caseworker Green.
Green was an odd one. He has a strange combination of mild autism and turrets syndrome. His first response to any mistake or wrongdoing was to lie. Green was probably beaten as a child.
With spoon in hand, Green climbs his chair. “Did you forget something Green?”
Green realized that his food was still in the microwave. “Oh, I was just adjusting the chair.”
“Why can’t you just admit that you forgot your food?” Green is sort of self-winding.
“Something to say, Walker?” said Goben, “You have that look.”
“No Goben, just all this talk about fuckin’ sisters and the incest cases has me thinking.”
“Are you telling us you want to fuck your sister?” shouted Green, as he nervously looked at Goben, then back at Walker.
“No Green, but…can you keep a secret?”
“Of course, Walker.” “Well, I sort of already did.”
“What do you mean, you already did?”
“Well, Inmate Jones, he’s in for fuckin’ his sister. Maybe I should be in jail too. Jones is a little different, because he knew it was his sister. I guess she was on her knees throwing up in the toilet during a party at a friend’s house. He went into the bathroom claiming he was going to help her, but all he intended to do was help himself. He pulled down her pants and panties, and just started railing her. At least that’s what this file says.”
“Back up a minute, Walker. You just said you already fucked your sister.”
“It’s a long story.” “We got a whole shift!”
An idea must have hatched in Walker’s gourd because he turned his back and scribbled out a note.
Walker handed Goben the note nonchalantly. It was written on the back of a pass, and they hand those back and forth regularly, so it did not raise any suspicion. He allowed Goben time to read before he began.
“Once when I was still in college, I was dating this gal. I initially gained interest because she was like molten-lava hot, but then I realized that we had something in common as well. Not really something in common, but a history in common. That’s probably not accurate either. Her mother was one of my instructor’s, and both of her parents knew my parents. Apparently our fathers once worked together back in the late 60s, or early 70s, and had kept in touch since then. We began dating and hit it off great. We went together like peas and carrots as Forrest Gump would say. It took longer than I wanted, probably because I was falling in love for real, but after about a week, we were screwing like crazy. I wanted to pee in her butt, but I am not sure if my urethra would expand enough to release urine in such a tight spot under erect circumstances. She was the most amazing sex I’ve ever had. In fact, when I have sex now, I visualize her. We dated for about five months before it donned on her to tell her mother. I wasn’t about to mention it in class, so time went on. I must have fucked her 200 times in that time frame, in about every way imaginable. The plan was to invite her mother over to meet the “new boyfriend” without telling her who it was. We were both hoping the surprise would be a pleasant one. You know, like a “meant to be” hopeful surprise. Her Mom arrived with a pan of cherry cheesecake in hand to add to the dinner we were about to consume. She saw me and the blood ran from her face. The smile simultaneously vanished and was replaced with a look of sheer horror. Neither Drill Instructors nor Godzilla had this impact. Her mouth dropped open as she lost control of the dessert dish.”
“Oh my God, please tell me you aren’t having sex.” “Mom! What would make you say such a thing?” “Sarah, that is your brother.”
I instantly noticed the family resemblance. How could it be?
“Mom, what the hell are you talking about?” “Remember how I know Earl?”
“Yah, Mom, you teach one of his classes.”
“I used to baby sit for his folks when I was in college? I had an affair with his father.” She pointed at me as if I was my father. “He is the reason your Dad and I divorced years ago. I had you nine months later. You can’t see each other anymore. Do you understand? You have the same father. Your children could be severely retarded.”
“So that was the end of the relationship with my sister. We kept in touch after that, but we knew deep in our hearts that we could not continue. It would be too tempting. We were that in tune with each other’s sexual needs and desires.”
Green just sat there, dumbfounded. For the first time in his life, he was completely speechless.
Caseworker Earl Walker went on a travel order at 10 a.m. that morning, just halfway into our shift. He anticipated returning at approximately 1:30 that afternoon. At roughly noon, Caseworker Bert Goben, gave me an awkward look, and unrolled the McDonald’s bag Walker had left behind on the counter. Goben was setting me up. The white paper bag contained a cold Egg McMuffin.
At 1300 hours I rechecked the bag. The cold treat was still there. At 1340, I could not take it anymore. We would be at the end of our shift in 20 minutes. The thought of the sandwich going to waste made me exceedingly hungry. I threw it in the microwave for 30 seconds, and then 10 more. The McMuffin lasted about half of that nuke time in my hands. It tasted great, but it was not worth it. I kept watching the door thinking Walker would walk in, and Goben added to that misery by making me think he kept arriving. I wound up leaving the unit without remembering to pack my half-pound bag of sunflower seeds.
I showed up the following morning, and the seeds were gone. We all know you can not leave unmarked food items in the control station for one shift, let alone two. Hell, if it is sunflower seeds, you can not even leave them around if your name is on them. I offered to pay Walker for the sandwich the following morning, but he refused, claiming he would have just thrown it away anyhow, and he was just glad that it did not go to waste.
Goben pissed me off so bad, I rubbed a cologne advertisement on his sleeve. It really makes the spouses suspicious (and we really need that).
“Me and my toys can’t make it feel as good as you can, but we can sure as hell make it feel better than you’re willing to.”
It was announced on the television news that the new level of lower class is $820 bi-weekly. If you take home more than that in a two-week period, you are middle class, if you take home less, you are lower class. Perhaps our union members should take their pay stubs with them when they go to renegotiate our salaries. I wonder if those figures include benefits.
Tom Twombley was an extremely retarded inmate. The mental health folks claim he did not qualify for housing in the Regional Center because his IQ was too high. That may be true. His speech patterns made you think he was more retarded than he actually was. Walker could communicate with him well. It was actually a little scary.
“You do dirtwork! You dumb and stupey…not smart of honor like me.”
Walker is a young co-shirker who used to work for a roofing company. His specialty was spraying polyurethane foam on a flat roof. A special skill he gained from this experience was making bachelor furniture. Walker would make molds out of cardboard, shaped like a piece of furniture he wanted to place in his apartment. He would seal the cardboard mold with masking tape, and then proceed to fill the mold with polyurethane foam. It did not end there. Walker would then cover the foam with used fabric from real furniture to give it an honest, homelike touch. The furniture never lasted very long, but it sure was easy to move.
Walker’s specialty within the department was fucking with people. He had a genetically built in game that helped him fuck with inmates. Walker’s twin brother worked for the department over at the DEC, so every inmate that came to NSP had met his twin. When inmates would inevitably ask him if he had a brother or a twin, he had a variety of replies.
“No, you probably just saw my doppelgänger.” “What’s a doppelgänger? Sounds like a fancy name for a penis.”
“The term has come to refer to any double or look-alike of a person, most commonly in reference to a so-called evil twin.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” “Sometimes the word is used to describe a phenomenon
where you catch your own image out of the corner of your eye. In some traditions, seeing one’s own doppelgänger is an omen of death. A doppelgänger seen by friends or relatives of a person may sometimes bring bad luck, or indicate an approaching illness or health problem.”
“Ooh…I don’t feel so good.”
Walker did not limit his games to inmates. He particularly liked to screw with Caseworker Green.
Green was an odd one. He has a strange combination of mild autism and turrets syndrome. His first response to any mistake or wrongdoing was to lie. Green was probably beaten as a child.
With spoon in hand, Green climbs his chair. “Did you forget something Green?”
Green realized that his food was still in the microwave. “Oh, I was just adjusting the chair.”
“Why can’t you just admit that you forgot your food?” Green is sort of self-winding.
“Something to say, Walker?” said Goben, “You have that look.”
“No Goben, just all this talk about fuckin’ sisters and the incest cases has me thinking.”
“Are you telling us you want to fuck your sister?” shouted Green, as he nervously looked at Goben, then back at Walker.
“No Green, but…can you keep a secret?”
“Of course, Walker.” “Well, I sort of already did.”
“What do you mean, you already did?”
“Well, Inmate Jones, he’s in for fuckin’ his sister. Maybe I should be in jail too. Jones is a little different, because he knew it was his sister. I guess she was on her knees throwing up in the toilet during a party at a friend’s house. He went into the bathroom claiming he was going to help her, but all he intended to do was help himself. He pulled down her pants and panties, and just started railing her. At least that’s what this file says.”
“Back up a minute, Walker. You just said you already fucked your sister.”
“It’s a long story.” “We got a whole shift!”
An idea must have hatched in Walker’s gourd because he turned his back and scribbled out a note.
Walker handed Goben the note nonchalantly. It was written on the back of a pass, and they hand those back and forth regularly, so it did not raise any suspicion. He allowed Goben time to read before he began.
“Once when I was still in college, I was dating this gal. I initially gained interest because she was like molten-lava hot, but then I realized that we had something in common as well. Not really something in common, but a history in common. That’s probably not accurate either. Her mother was one of my instructor’s, and both of her parents knew my parents. Apparently our fathers once worked together back in the late 60s, or early 70s, and had kept in touch since then. We began dating and hit it off great. We went together like peas and carrots as Forrest Gump would say. It took longer than I wanted, probably because I was falling in love for real, but after about a week, we were screwing like crazy. I wanted to pee in her butt, but I am not sure if my urethra would expand enough to release urine in such a tight spot under erect circumstances. She was the most amazing sex I’ve ever had. In fact, when I have sex now, I visualize her. We dated for about five months before it donned on her to tell her mother. I wasn’t about to mention it in class, so time went on. I must have fucked her 200 times in that time frame, in about every way imaginable. The plan was to invite her mother over to meet the “new boyfriend” without telling her who it was. We were both hoping the surprise would be a pleasant one. You know, like a “meant to be” hopeful surprise. Her Mom arrived with a pan of cherry cheesecake in hand to add to the dinner we were about to consume. She saw me and the blood ran from her face. The smile simultaneously vanished and was replaced with a look of sheer horror. Neither Drill Instructors nor Godzilla had this impact. Her mouth dropped open as she lost control of the dessert dish.”
“Oh my God, please tell me you aren’t having sex.” “Mom! What would make you say such a thing?” “Sarah, that is your brother.”
I instantly noticed the family resemblance. How could it be?
“Mom, what the hell are you talking about?” “Remember how I know Earl?”
“Yah, Mom, you teach one of his classes.”
“I used to baby sit for his folks when I was in college? I had an affair with his father.” She pointed at me as if I was my father. “He is the reason your Dad and I divorced years ago. I had you nine months later. You can’t see each other anymore. Do you understand? You have the same father. Your children could be severely retarded.”
“So that was the end of the relationship with my sister. We kept in touch after that, but we knew deep in our hearts that we could not continue. It would be too tempting. We were that in tune with each other’s sexual needs and desires.”
Green just sat there, dumbfounded. For the first time in his life, he was completely speechless.
Caseworker Earl Walker went on a travel order at 10 a.m. that morning, just halfway into our shift. He anticipated returning at approximately 1:30 that afternoon. At roughly noon, Caseworker Bert Goben, gave me an awkward look, and unrolled the McDonald’s bag Walker had left behind on the counter. Goben was setting me up. The white paper bag contained a cold Egg McMuffin.
At 1300 hours I rechecked the bag. The cold treat was still there. At 1340, I could not take it anymore. We would be at the end of our shift in 20 minutes. The thought of the sandwich going to waste made me exceedingly hungry. I threw it in the microwave for 30 seconds, and then 10 more. The McMuffin lasted about half of that nuke time in my hands. It tasted great, but it was not worth it. I kept watching the door thinking Walker would walk in, and Goben added to that misery by making me think he kept arriving. I wound up leaving the unit without remembering to pack my half-pound bag of sunflower seeds.
I showed up the following morning, and the seeds were gone. We all know you can not leave unmarked food items in the control station for one shift, let alone two. Hell, if it is sunflower seeds, you can not even leave them around if your name is on them. I offered to pay Walker for the sandwich the following morning, but he refused, claiming he would have just thrown it away anyhow, and he was just glad that it did not go to waste.
Goben pissed me off so bad, I rubbed a cologne advertisement on his sleeve. It really makes the spouses suspicious (and we really need that).
“Me and my toys can’t make it feel as good as you can, but we can sure as hell make it feel better than you’re willing to.”
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