"It's The Angel of Death."
"I don't like talking to you."
The Stream Team
The mission of the Department of Correctional
Services is to serve and protect the public by providing
control, humane care, and program opportunities for those
individuals placed in its custody and supervision, thereby
facilitating their return to society as responsible persons.
.and that includes collecting piss.
I was doing my duty as a member of the "Golden
Retrievers" urine collection team. First thing in the morning
is the best time to collect urine, because most people always
have to pee when they fi rst wake up. On the positive side, I
do not have to wait long for a sample. Most of these young
guys can jet-spray gum off the sidewalk at 0600. On the
negative side, inmates do not like to be bothered fi rst thing
in the morning if they are still sleeping.
This particular "Stream Team" collection was to be
gained from inmate Carradine. He and his celly, inmate
Krumpler, were both incarcerated for the manufacture and
distribution of methamphetamines. Although we had yet to
catch them, it was abundantly clear from the moaning, one
of them was stuffi n' the ol' mud pocket. It was 0610 hours.
Krumpler was sleeping lightly on the bottom bunk, and
Carradine claimed he had to pee, but could not because he
was shy in front of me.
"I'm not shy in front of my celly though. Heck, this one
time, he was sitting on the pot, but I had to pee so bad, he let
me pee between his legs while he was pooping!"
"I can't believe you told him that!" cried Krumpler. I can
just imagine the unsanitary condition of the urine splattering
the bottom of his legs, balls, and inner crack. And that is
assuming his aim was perfect. Perhaps Carradine would
volunteer to lick him clean later.
Parker would dip his drinking cup in the toilet, but he
would not take water from the meds pitcher. Randy Parker
was a short timer, but he had been here before. His name
reminded me of Ray Parker Jr. who sang the theme song to
Ghostbusters back in the 80s, so I called him Ray Parker Jr.,
and frequently asked him, "Who ya gonna call?"
Parker was so fat he could not see his penis. If he had an
Indian-name, it would be two-mirrors, because it would take
two-mirrors for him to see his penis. In fact, he could only
reach it by leaning side-ways so his arm could get around
his massive gut. Parker's weight condition was due to eating
healthy, which was not the case for him on the free-side.
On the free-side, he would kick Jenny Craig's ass with his
diet. The fi rst time he got out, he went on the Jenny Crank
plan and lost 60 pounds in two weeks. After he was caught
violating his parole, he was brought back to the Diagnostic
and Evaluation Center where he slept for almost a week.
Once he woke up he would eat anything dead or seriously
slowed down.
Now that he was eating, standing to pee was an extremely
diffi cult option for him, but it was even more diffi cult to pee
in a cup while sitting down. Peeing in a cup presented many
diffi culties. He fi rst asked if I would hold it for him. I did
not ask if he meant the cup or his penis, because neither was
an option. I am not nearly that sympathetic. He was going
to have to get creative, and he was not a creative person.
Parker was in for shop-lifting a fried chicken from
Albertson's, and the most creative idea he ever had in his
whole fucking life was to attempt to hide it under his shirt.
He was going to have to use both hands. Reaching for his
penis with one hand had him leaning over to the right, and
holding the cup to pee in had him leaning over to the left.
The trouble would be meeting in the middle.
"I could use some meds."
"They don't put fried chicken in a pill."
"That's cold, Batiste."
"The water?"
"My legs ain't that short!"
Parker attempted to limber up, as if that would stretch
his arms some. The picture went something like this.
Parker's left hand held the cup while his right hand held his
penis. With no way in hell to see what was going on, he
had to use his penis as a feeler to fi nd the cup. He could not
perform this stretch of his limbs long enough, so he wound
up holding the cup in his left hand and trying to fi nd the head
of his penis with the cup without the use of his right hand.
Once the head of his penis was in the cup, all he had to do
was hold it there long enough while waiting for the fl ow of
urine to fi ll the cup.
"Dammit Batiste, I am so fat!"
"You can keep saying it, but it won't stop being true."
We were again posed with options. I could watch closely
and tell him "when" or he could pee until the sensation of
the rising urine level signaled to him that it was full enough
because it touched the head of his penis. I do not watch
closely, so he was on his own. With that task accomplished,
he tried to hand me the cup. Any bump would cause some
spillage, because it was so full. Instead of accepting the cup,
I asked him to place it on the sink counter. I then donned an
extra set of rubber gloves, and handed him the lid, and had
him cap it off himself. I can just imagine my friends in the
lab opening this sample. It was probably straight chicken
grease.
I like to fuck with Parker on occasion regarding his
crime, and his weight, because he takes it so well. We
often speak regarding our favorite chicken establishments.
The following is the quality chicken order of preference
as provided by inmate Randy Parker: KFC, Albertson's,
Popeye's, Church's, Super Saver, and Hy-Vee.
Personally, I prefer Popeye's, but it is not my list. I
imagine Albertson's will take a tumble on the list now, since
they had him arrested.
It was the last day of the urinalysis collection (UA)
week. I have Inmate Lasuer on the Intensive Plan (IP) list.
It was a call-in add-on from The Angel of Death a few days
prior, due to an incident involving Lasuer in the gymnasium.
Corporal Nordstrom came from outside of the unit to get
Lasuer on the Random Urinalysis list (RUA) at the same
time.
According to policy, you are not supposed to perform
your duties as the Purveyor of Piss to achieve two UAs from
the same inmate on the same day. We both procrastinated
too long. It is not terribly uncommon to have the same guy
come up on your weekly random and intensive lists, but when
two people have lists and they do not communicate.well,
you get the picture. Rock-paper-scissors would decide who
would be the Urine Extraction Engineer, and who would
write the incident report because they did not get their renal
contribution. It could happen easily. In fact, it happens with
regularity. Nobody seems to want to come up with a system
of checks and balances to combat this problem. Nordstrom
showed at 0630 for his sample. He scored a full cup, due to
morning wood. I asked him to split it in half, so I would not
have to do mine later. He thought I was joking. In some
instances, lying is admirable.
"I've done my last UA for the month."
"Uh-oh, now you've jinxed yourself."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, the month ends on a Friday this month, and Walker
is off on Thursdays and Fridays. If The Angel of Death
calls, you're the only one left here that's on the team."
"Oh Fuck. Well, just tell him I'm not here!"
"I won't lie for you Batiste. Besides, he checks the
schedule. He knows who has keys checked out. The Angel
has done this for years."
Later that following Thursday:
.phone ringing.
"Goben, I can't answer that."
Goben grins at me like a Cheshire cat, "And why
not?"
"You know why, damn it! Cuz it's probably The Angel
of Death, calling me for an extra UA!"
Goben answers the phone.
"Yep.yes.uh-huh.that's right .
absolutely."
Goben hangs up the phone.
"Was it him?"
"Yes."
"Well, what did he say?"
Goben grabs a pass and begins writing on the back. "Is
Batiste there? Is he standing right there listening? Is he
avoiding me like the plague? He thinks I want him to get
another UA, doesn't he? Would you write down this name
and number and tell him I need it today please?"
"Fuck!"
"Yes, he wants you to get a UA from this inmate." Goben
hands me the pass he wrote the name and number on.
"You took a message from The Angel of Death?"