1:22 am. 30 minutes after the silence of the prison was pierced by the violent screams of a prisoner, the Guard is now channeling old school Police. The calming voice of Sting is what is needed to sooth the frayed nerves. Message in a bottle. Check.
Apparently the vicious stomach bug has not been irradiated from the prison as once believed. #1 awoke the cell block with screams that suggested an exorcism was immediately needed. Brave attempts by the Guard to sooth the inmate did not prevent the appocolpyse from occurring.
Veterans write about the sights, sounds and smells of war and how those sights, sounds and smells can never be forgotten. Although the cell block was not a deadly battlefield this evening, a war was fought. The sights, sounds and smells from this event can never be unseen, unheard or unsmelled.
What exited #1 was not human. Multiple trips to the commode, close examination of a trash can and a final failed attempt for one last trip to the commode resulted in a toxic mess for the Guard with clean up lasting what seemed like an eternity.
1:36 am: Clean up complete. All that is left is to remove the 'stuff' from the prison. Having responded to the exorcism from bed, the Guard was not fully clothed during the response and clean up. In his tired and dazed state, he exits the prison for the 50 foot walk to the trash cans.
The trek out doors in the middle of the night was meant to be quick. A jacket and boots were put on with the idea that it was a short trip so the bare legs should not be effected by the cold air as the trip would be fast. With thoughts of the bed kept warm by the Warden, the Guard cuts corners to get the job done quicker. Shoe laces untied, the guard exits the prison and heads down the path through the prison yard. On each side of the path is approximately 18 inches of hard frozen snow. Remnants of the 37 snow storms that have hit the area.
The toxic waste is deposited into the trash cans. The cold air is starting to wick at the exposed legs of the Guard. He hastens his pace back towards the prison. In an instant, a New York second, the blink of the eye, the Guard finds himself off the path and deposited into a hard and cold snow bank. Immediately he realizes that the shoe laces to his boots really should have been tied, or at least tucked away. Cutting corners results in those corners cutting you.
Message in a bottle.
Message in a bottle.
I'll send an SOS to the world.
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