Bye Bye Taser Land, Hello Sweden

Writing is an exploration. You start from nothing and learn as you go.

                                                                   —E.L. Doctorow

He, the prisoner with compliance issues, turned his back on one and then the other and fell to the ground faster than the airborne confetti around him. Did he not hear the directives? Did he not see the red laser dot on his torso? First one spoke, then the other, and so he turned, not once but twice before moving forward. Not to worry, everything would be sorted out, including the serialized confetti littering the floor.

“He wouldn’t comply with my order,” the first one said.

“He started coming at me,” the other one said.

From my understanding—and what would I know, I am non-custody, I am civilian staff—but from the training video I viewed, in order to carry a taser, in order to be able to use it, you had to be willing to undergo a bit of shock therapy yourself. Thankfully, the approved use of tasers in the prison has cut down on staff assaults.

“So,” someone in the lunchroom asked, “both you guys tased the prisoner?”

“Simultaneously,” one of them said. “I zapped him in the front and he zapped him in the back.”

“That had to hurt,” I said to no one in particular.

I’m leaving Taser Land for two weeks. Take care everyone. See you in the virtual universe in mid-July.