The Phone Police

September is my favorite time of the year. Baseball gets interesting; football gets started; kids are back in the swing of school; weather cools off a bit; people take other jobs, so we have some turnover.
The captain in charge of investigations was looking for replacements to monitor inmate phone conversations. Most of the staff secretly called his organization “The Secret Squirrels,” but we never said it out loud when he was in earshot. The state was spending a great deal of money listening to inmate phone calls in the hopes that they would hear something valuable. Information perhaps that might help solve other cases, or prevent the advancement of criminal threat group activities.
The captain chose two Marines, coincidentally, me and Count. We were certain that the brotherhood and the loyalties played a part in his choosing us, but nobody would question it here. The captain chose whomever he wanted, and the warden protected that power. What it meant for me and Count was that we would have to get shorter haircuts and start looking the part again.

Adding an extra-duty assignment prompted an invitation to the next staff meeting. The captain wanted to brag about his program, show off some statistics, and introduce his latest additions to the squirrels. The meeting always started with the warden’s latest routine. He must have been a comedian in his past life, or had a fantasy about becoming one.

Herb’s laugh hurt your ears. His laugh made a second wave of laughter. When he attended the ties’ meetings, his laughter made the warden think he was funny enough to do stand-up. Actually, his jokes sucked. People were laughing at Herb laughing. His laugh was a combination of a few water fowl calls and a growling dog. It was like a duck and a loon and a pit bull.

“Hi, Jenny, this is Carlton.”

“Oh hey, Carlton, how’s it going?”

“Well, ya know, I’m still here, so it could be better.”
“Dubry told me to fill out this form, and then you could call.”
“I hope that’s okay; it gets pretty lonely in here.” “Do you want to have phone sex?”
“Huh?”

“I could tell you what I’m going to do to you when you get out.”
“Okay, what do I need to do?”

“You have to jack-off and let me know when you are going to come.”
“I can’t do that right now! I’m in the middle of a common area with lots of traffic!”
“No strokin’ no sex. That’s the deal.” “What if they start watchin’ me?”
“You need to be stealth. Hide it under your sweatshirt or coat.”
“They’ve tested it on rats. They say it might be an antidote to nerve gas.”
“Give me the fucking pills. In a year, my ass will turn inside-out and start talking to me, but at least I’ll be alive.”