"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."
"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:
"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?"
"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?"
"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?"