Saturday, July 16, 2011

Jail Bail by Diane Ogden

Considering I was up most of last night it is a miracle I am able to keep my pretty browns open long enough 
to write this little tale of horror.   
It all started twenty two years ago when my Grand Daughter was
born.  She was the cutest little thing, even funny, then she grew up and is still funny and can sing like a bird or Christina Aguilara. She is also very pretty. Only problem is she has OCD. We all do to some degree. You know Optimal Cursed Dumbness when it comes to being quiet when things don't go just right.  OK its Obsessive Compulsive Disorder where she cant let go of a subject.  When she gets angry its harder for her to let up and relax.  Sometimes that causes fighting.  Oh yeh!  Its a form of low lifer behavior and she knows it.  This time it came back and bit her in her derier big time.  We are talking
 A R R E S T E D! Hello Geronimo! She was taken away in handcuffs that left marks that lasted into the next day. She wasn't allowed to even get a pair of shoes.  Had no undies on, no bra, and believe me this girl needs one at all times.  It was "Let's hang out at the jail."  She discovered officers who are not the nice helpful kind of policeman on the corner directing traffic and helping little old ladies across the street.  She wore an Orange, yes I said Orange jumpsuit that said, Columbia County Jail on the back, and it didn't smell so well.  She was in a holding area where one fellow was coochie coo-ing her which scared her to tears. He was behind bars so she was safe.
I do wish she would take up cooking, cleaning, and parks and recreation
vs obsessive thoughts on how others do not do things perfectly or even acceptable.  Poor thing truly has the medical OCD.
I think she will be fine.  
But the jail bail paying machine isn't fine.  If you do not have correct change that means you have to leave the premises and go find a convenience (now I know why they are called that) store to get you more money and do not forget the service charge Almighty!  Back I go and when I arrive I am trying to help an older gentleman who was just going to stick forty dollars in it without typing who it is for.  So there I am helping again, duh, but the letter A kept sticking until the old fellow said a few choice words and left.  Poor kid waiting for is canteen $.  All that was wrong is the screen was dirty.  But then those donut eating fellows with the shiny gold badges find it hard to waddle out into the entry to wipe a 14 inch screen off.  In fact they found it difficult to do much I noticed.
They messed up and forgot to key in my information, which meant my bail money wont come back to me, but rather go to the Grand D! What else do they have to do on a Saturday morn.  I watched. Nothing, I say. Nothing much. 
They finally let the poor girl out of the Jail House to which point she began shaking and crying. I do not blame her.  Bad place, Oh yes! Me, I just need sleep now. Good peaceful sleep with no calls from any jail or hospital or highway.  Now I only have one day left before a new week of hard labor.  Maybe the Grand D should get the hard labor huh?  Anybody looking fer Grand D?  Yup, her Nana D is.
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