Was it a slug? Or was
it buckshot?
Ah yes, a solid question, and a practical one too … and by
an authority figure—a corrections officer, a seasoned veteran of this place
called Disneyland .
I sat in the Food Technology Dining Area. The prisoners
served me scrambled eggs, sausage patties, toast and grits. I salted the eggs.
I smeared blackberry jam on my wheat toast. I ate. I ate real well. I saved my
orange juice for last, swished it around for good measure.
Was it a slug? Or was
it buckshot?
It’s not polite to talk with a mouth full of food. It’s
impossible to speak with a reservoir of liquid going down your gullet.
“I think we raised over a thousand dollars,” a non-custody
staff person said from the next table over. The money was for our coworker who
suffered 2nd degree burns to his face and hands and lost a family
member and his house to a fire. Everyone appeared content with chipping in to
help him out.
Was it a slug? Or was
it buckshot?
“But,” another non-custody staff person—a bean-counter from
the administration building—interrupted, “Did you subtract the money owed for
the food?”—a legitimate concern if you’re worried about the State of Michigan ’s budgetary
woes, or if you have the insensitivity of a … of a … of a … slug.
I drank some more orange juice; I should’ve commented about
this particular person’s work-time wasted on smoke breaks off grounds. I kept
my mouth shut; I opened it. I drank more orange juice. I swallowed. I said nothing.
Was it a slug? Or was
it buckshot?
10 comments:
Depends on the caliber of the slug and the slug who was worried about Snyder paying for the fundraiser's food was probably a .410 boor. Nice lodging there Jim...a couple more walls and you have a winter house.
When folks like the one who asked about taking the money out for the food start finger pointing, they never point in their own direction.
Well written. Could not help but notice the aura of contentment displayed on your pearly whites.
The metamorphis continues to improve your self esteem. It reflects in your writing and your soul. The smoking will eventually catch up with the slug if it hasn't already. Huck's Gang
PS. Enjoyed the metaphor.
Great story. Not wanting to pry but where's the fishin pole?
You look like you been catchin some biggins. Catfish contest time?
Huck
Thems some mighty big tennis shoes.
Nice to see you smilin that "shit eatin" grin agin. Good story.
Puddin Head
I know I should probably be commenting on what you wrote, but I am completely FASCINATED by the little house! WHAT IS THAT??? Did you build it? Have you seen the relaxshacks.com guy? I love tiny houses.
Okay, enough of that. Love your writing as always. Keep it up!
Wonderful - when people not only care, but follow through...
Love that lean-to (?), abode, whatever... And you look happy. :)
I think if was old Rabelais who said it was a war between the shitters and the retentives.
Was it a slug? Was it buckshot? Or was it a bean counting clams?
I'm digging that set-up in the pic., for sure. . .
"did she jump or was she pushed"
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