Prison Matron, left: “Now, Dottie, is this really a proper way for you to behave?”
Dottie: “I don’t care! I’m sick to death of you bringing me the same lousy food on the same lousy tray ever y day.”
Matron: “Well, Dottie, I didn’t actually make the lousy food. One of your little felonious friends on kitchen duty is responsible for your cuisine. Perhaps you would consider settling this matter during free time in the yard? A rumble, perhaps?”
Dottie: “I don’t get free time. I’m stuck in this lousy cell all day.”
Matron: “Oh, that’s right. You’re on restriction because you don’t play well with others, with your annoying habit of stabbing people for the most mundane of reasons. Really, Dottie, if you yearn for more palatable nourishment, may I suggest that you stop trying to kill everyone around you?”
Dottie: “You are your fancy talk don’t mean nothing to me! I don’t never want to see another bowl of tapioca pudding on that tray again! Ever! Do you hear me? I want butterscotch or chocolate or even lemon. But no more tapioca! It makes me crazy!”
Matron: “I really don’t think we can blame the tapioca for your mental instability. Bad parenting, yes, poor life choices, check, and there might even be some childhood ingestion of lead paint in the mix, along with some form of fundamentalist religion to really mess you up. But really, dear, dessert? Sugary goo is not your albatross, trust me.”
Dottie: “Stop talking like that! Now, you better go find me something better to eat or I will cut you!”
Matron: “Hmm. I see that once again you did not plan well with your daily agenda. If I leave this cell, I’m sure as hell not coming back. But the tapioca pudding will, right on schedule. It will just be carried by someone else with less seniority.”
Dottie: “Oh. I didn’t really think about that part. Maybe my guidance counselor was right and I should have paid more attention in math class when I was in school.”
Matron: “You had a guidance counselor? Never mind, it’s clearly not important at this point. And don’t be so blue about one of your plans failing once again. It’s just in your destiny. And by the way, I did bring along something new with your meal.”
Dottie: “Really?”
Matron: “Yes, dear. It’s the other half of the scissors that you broke apart to fashion your primitive weapon. And the blade is currently pointing at one of your favorite body parts. Now, shall we call this situation a truce so you can go eat your mundane tapioca and I can go request a job transfer?”
Previously published in “Crusty Pie” and “Bonnywood Manor”. Slight changes made for this post.
Categories: Past Imperfect
Re photo;Ear piercings were a tad rough-hewn in the Big House back then? Photo title might be Don’t, Runaway With Scissor.’
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Or should the title be “Don’t Pick Up the Scissors Unless You Know What the Hell You’re Doing”? I think that would apply to the entire Trump Administration…
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Perhaps, after the Bush/bus expose a few years ago Melania might have been reaching for Dons privates, with her other hand reaching for the pinking shears… she had every right to feel snippy then.
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Ah, Melania. Poor thing, or at least some of the media expects us to think that. But she’s no innocent lamb, as she knew exactly what she was getting into when she walked down the aisle. And I lost any sympathy I might have when she wore the “Really Don’t Care” jacket at a really inappropriate time. Reap, sow.
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Oh, don’t get me wrong, she went down the ol’ sugar-daddy route wide-eyed and covetous, I’m sure. Things turned a tad sour for the Princess there though. No sympathy except for her getting the worst deal anyone could ask for. As you say, reap, sow. As I say, tough sh*t, Melania.
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And stop wearing those squeaky shoes or I’m going to squeal all over you and see how you like it. 😉
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Sadly, many people remain ignorant about the fallout of squeaky shoes, which is why America is in the political mess that it’s in… 😉
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Dinnertime is such fun.
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Until somebody wields the cutlery in an aggressive manner. A lesson I learned long ago at family Thanksgiving reunions…
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Tapioca pudding everyday would drive anybody mad. Tapioca pudding should be the new Twinkie defense in courts.
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Is it beneath me at this point to mention that I’m rather fond of tapioca? I know, it destroys my street cred, but I can’t live in silence anymore… 😉
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Well, I’m here at Costco now and they’re buy one bundle of 100 and get the second bundle free and they’ll deliver it right to your house.
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I think I just had a small orgasm. Please forgive if you find this pronouncement to be an overshare… 😉
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Never. Cheers to you my friend! 🙂💗
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I wondered how the mad woman got herself that ‘knife’. Security was apparently really really lax in her particular enforced solitude. Tapioca? Ew. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little. That stuff (and rice pudding) are off my ‘will even try a spoonful’ list of foods due to the striking resemblance to another substance, purely man made, that some may encounter via their oral (wink wink nudge nudge) orifice. I liked the man made stuff (once upon a time), well I tolerated it anyway; but the pudding? Ugh.
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I should have known that you would take things in an interesting direction and, as usual, you did not disappoint me at all. This is one of the many reasons why we are bonded forever… 😉
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At my current place of employment, there is on occasion “Carlos’ famous homemade tapioca pudding” offered at lunch. No one goes mad at the sight of it. Indeed, we’re more likely to go mad waiting for it. 😉
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Tell me more about this Carlos. I may have to have a subversive, down-low dalliance with him…
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Good work. RE-posted on twitter @trefology
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Let us sing hosannas into perpetuity. Chastely, of course.
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‘Sugary goo is not your albatross’. Hee hee!
In other news; your Confession above may have just ended what has been a beautiful relationship. Tapioca? Seriously? What the fuck is it even? I can’t look at it, so do not put that stuff near my mouth. It’s Devil’s spawn. You think you know someone, then…….
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I am trembling in fear and trepidation on where our relationship will go from here. Which sounds about right, based on my myriad relationships in the past… 😉
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