If I were a prison Warden,
I’d be picking up the phone pretty darn quick to see if I could make a deal
with Jack Astor’s Bar & Grill whereby I would take all of the broken
crayons off their hands at no charge.
Instead of pencils or pens, both of which can easily be fashioned into
some sort of weapon to be used against me, I’d give my prisoners the broken
crayons to write letters to home with.
Let’s face it, there isn’t too much damage a prisoner can inflict on me
with a broken crayon, except for maybe the inflammatory comments and drawings
they doodle on the walls of their cells at my expense, but those would cause
more emotional pain than physical, so you have to take the bad with the good I
suppose. A prison Warden needs to
have thick skin, otherwise he’d probably be depressed a lot of the time, what with being
in a place where most of the people don’t like him and all. And every Tuesday afternoon when I go
on my crayon collection run over to Jack Astor’s, I could keep my fingers
crossed thinking that maybe this time they might even throw in some free garlic
bread. I like garlic bread. But if I’m not going to eat it right
then and there, I think I’d ask them to put that garlic butter that they pour
all over it in a little cup on the side, otherwise my garlic bread would get
all soggy, and there’s nothing worse than getting home and opening a container
filled with soggy garlic bread mush.
If I wanted porridge I would have asked for porridge, but I don’t like
porridge, so I probably wouldn’t ever ask for it. I’d much rather have pancakes. But don’t even think about putting fruit into my
pancakes! No way man, I like my
pancakes left alone with no other ingredients getting in the way. Just leave them nice and thick and
spongy so they can soak up all the maple syrup, because the best part of having
pancakes isn’t even the pancakes themselves, it’s the syrup. The pancake is nothing more than a
vessel that transports the maple syrup from my plate to my mouth. Sometimes the maple syrup drips onto my
shirt, and that makes me mad. A
lot of people like to smoke when they’re mad, but not me, I don’t smoke. I think the only reason people even
take up smoking is for the additional work breaks, because really, why else
would they do it? Smoking stinks
and makes your fingers turn yellow, so no thanks I’ll pass. I like to pass drivers who are smoking
as quickly as I can, because for some reason smoker’s drive slowly. Maybe it’s because the car window is
partially open, and they don’t want to mess up their hair. Bald smokers don’t have that problem,
but they do have to wear sunscreen or a hat when they cut the grass. Some people like cutting grass, but I’m
not one of those people. If I was the
prison Warden I’d make the prisoners who were interested in the grass cutting
position submit resumes to me written in crayon, and then hire whoever uses the
green crayon most effectively. I’d
have to be careful though, because the prisoner I hire could try to cut the
grass slowly to maximize his time outdoors, so somehow I’d have to find a way
to eliminate the turtle speed on the riding lawnmower, and rig it so that there
is only the rabbit speed. This
isn’t a Sunday afternoon drive, this is prison, so he needs to get it done
fast. I don’t want the other
prisoners getting jealous and starting a riot. Quiet Riot was a band back in the day, but I don’t know if
there is such a thing as a quiet riot.
Riots are normally loud and out of control, or the equivalent of a big
party, but with periodic violence.
Everybody have fun tonight, everybody Wang Chung tonight! But don’t Wang Chung with nun-chucks,
‘cause that could cause some serious damage. I seem to have gotten off topic. What was I talking about again?
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