Dear ladles and germs,
To start off the night on a high note, we had water falling from the skies. I have heard the Old Ones speak of such a thing from days past, but I never thought to see it with my own eyes.
There were no leaks reported either at River or Central.
Officers spotted Inmate C. passing something from East/5 to Inmates R. and F. in East/4. Suspecting tobacco, we hit the tank but Inmates F. and R. got to the khazi before we did. We shook East/4 anyway, and came up aces when we found a bee-yoo-ti-ful tattoo pick in R’s property; and a baggie of ink in the general area. To show my appreciation, we moved Inmate R. to West/2 pending a disciplinary case for Possession of Tattoo Paraphernalia; shifted Inmate C. one tank further along to East/6 and left Inmate F. in East/4.
Tier scuttlebutt has it that Inmates R, C and F were getting tobacco from Inmate F2 in East/1.
While we were shaking down East/4, officers spotted West/1 working out with a water-bag, but they had an attack of the dumbs and denied having the contraband. Since I had a surfeit of knuckle-draggers handy, we over-rode the doors in West/1 and retrieved the water-bag. The startled faces in that tank are a memory that I will treasure always.
Inmate H. in SHU/6 got kittenish about chaining up for cell cleaning, I went down and he decided to comply, but when it came time to remove the restraints, he decided to grab an officer’s hand and squeeze as hard as possible. That went about as well as might be expected. Then he took out his frustration on the door to SHU/6 – and I am told that the door to SHU/6 oft comes agley when beaten upon. Sigh. So we went back and took him to SHU/10. Surprisingly enough, he went meek as a lamb.
Of course, a scant breath after getting Inmate H relocated, Inmate R (from the tobacco and My First Tattoo Kit incident in East/4) told officers that if we didn’t move him to a solitary cell that he would hurt himself. Despite multiple inmates advising that this was not the course of action he really wanted, Inmate R decided to insist that he would do himself an injury if we didn’t oblige him with a solitary cell. Okay. From the look on his face, I’m thinking that the suicide smock is a wee touch drafty.
The low West tanks started getting annoying about the recent trend of seizing their coloured knickers and accused us of making rules up. I gave them the page number in the Inmate Handbook so they could read it for themselves, but it turns out that none of the low West tanks had any Inmate Handbooks. I printed up one for each of the low West tanks, and – rather kindly, I think – pointed out the page that stated that destroying the Inmate Handbook would result in the tank T.V. being turned off for “an indeterminate time”. They’ve been quiet ever since.
Officer H. managed to reopen a cut on her lip from earlier that bled like God’s Own Water Faucet. We tried to get her to blame an inmate, but she wouldn’t follow-through. Sigh. The nurse came out and got the bleeding stopped.
Once that was done, Officer R. sprinted through the River Control Room with his face a most un-becoming shade of green. Seems the lad ate something that didn’t agree with him, because he spent about ten minutes praying to the porcelain throne. After happily advising him to check for toe-nails, and suggesting that he swallow hard if he felt something round and furry coming up, I told him he could go home. I am here to report that Officer R. is a trouper, and has stayed on.
Intake reports that “Inmate M. came back from the hospital at 0500”.
River did water and intercom checks at 0311; Central/North did theirs at 0151; and Central/Female at 0112. Center/North also reports shaking down North/8 and North/4, but not finding anything of interest.