THE TRIALS AT ST TIMMY'S 20 ================================================================= THE TRIALS AT ST TIMMY'S -- The Continued Saga of Paul Ess's Rehabilitation ================================================================= Gee, this is episode 20 already and we have a mystery on our hands. Last week my pinch-penny change purse -- the one the moths fly out of if you don't shut it quickly -- disappeared. It went bye-bye with all of 95 cents in it a day or so before they shipped Miss Potty Mouth off. She went to some tardfarm in San Francisco where they can watch her more closely and possibly "help" her with her caffeine problem. Dunno if they can help her with her klepto problem. There are things they ought to tell you on admission such as watch out for Steely Dan over there who will nick the fillings from your teeth, and be aware of Hoo Flung Dung who will do just that. Today I reached for my Bearcat scanning radio receiver and it wasn't there. I got this little $300 toy back in days when I had bucks working for Uncle Sugar. I have made a career of ripping off the taxpayers by not working very much. Then it was in the local Naval establishment which is now kaput. Now it is by lingering in tardfarms at state expense. This being first of the month, I confirmed that my pension has been wired to my checking account and wrote my share-of-cost check payable to St Timmy's and took it to the office. My share of cost is about $25 a month more than I get deposited, yet I am told the figures allow me to keep $35 a month for hatpins and rose water. A dollar a day won't even buy a soda and a packet of chips I'm not supposed to have. On my way out with the check I ran into Miss Ralph and mentioned the loss of the radio. I filled out a "concern form" which basically stated I'VE BEEN RIPPED OFF AND HERE'S WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE [DRAWING]. My first suspect, now that Miss Potty Mouth is no longer here, is Johnny, the younguy who got shot in the back. He and George seem to be awfully palsy-walsy lately. Therefore he has access to this room and can see the toys I have. Miss Ralph said she went and looked in his room to see if the scanner was there but didn't see anything. As I am coming back to my room, I see the head maintenance man poking around in here. Oh, he says, I hear you lost something. I said, Gee, news sure travels fast around here. Oh, he says, they always tell me and I look around for stuff when it's missing. So he's poking around in my closet and under my furniture and opening my boxes and shit like that and I am getting steamed. He asks me if the scanner had my name on it. Oh sure, like my name scrawled on it is going to stop a thief. I suppose somewhere I have the serial number recorded, but those records are in storage and Glub knows what box they're in, so forget it. I do have the serial numbers of the computer and peripherals registered in the business office in case they grow legs. Now I have to find out if Miss Ralph actually told the maintenance people about this incident. If not, then Danny is going to have some explaining to do about how he knew what was missing. Fuck whether Miss Ralph told the maintenance people about the sticky fingers in this place! The shit started at four-thirty this morning with some asshole nurse-type shining a flashlight in my eyes. I am never in a good mood when awakened before my time. You should hear the things I used to call my alarm clock. Now with a flashlight blinding me, I am not only pissed as hell, I am frightened to boot. I roar such goodies as, Who the FUCK are YOU and WHAT the HELL do you WANT? George wakes up and starts yelling JesusChrist JesusChrist again. I yell at George, Nevermind, George, we have a burglar or something. The burglar gets all, Oh, no, I'm not a burglar; I'm just here to check on you. I get all, You're here to check on me and you wave a GODDAM FLASHLIGHT IN MY FACE?! WHAT THE HELL IS *THAT* FOR? Nurse-type is all, I'm sorry I'm sorry. George is all, Stupid, stupid. I'm all, Yeah, George, Stupid is right. Nurse-type flees in terror (I hope) as I continue ranting about all the goddam incompetence sure as hell starts early in the fucking mornings these days! Coincidentally, other nurseypoos are cleaning up the Chink next door. Now he's yelling his ass off. He loves to talk to and boss people who aren't even there. I can't be sure what language it's in. It's very poorly pronounced Chinese if it's that, and it sure as fuck isn't English. This nonsense goes on until after six o'clock. I am looking for something or somebody to kill. Next interruption of sleep comes when the nurseypoos get done with the Chink and come over to see if I have any doodoo. They ought to check George's ass first. He's the one I see walking around in here with HerseySquirt on his Jockeys. One of them takes my pussy-shaped urinal to empty. They never rinse it. I tell nurseypoo to go back and rinse it so it won't smell. What do they teach these people in CNA school? Don't they ever get around to the common sense niceties? The next in the morning's plague of irritations is the dumbest licensed nurse in the world they bring in to work relief on the overnight med cart. She's here to do my morning finger stick. At least I have her in deep fear of waking me before six o'clock. Now she shows up as close to seven as she can to avoid my wrath. I must really make her nervous because she dropped everything. Thank Glub I can get along without insulin. How would you like a klutz like this coming at you with a sharp needle? She dropped the meter (ouch!), the testing strip, the paper thang with the pill in it, and she never brings me any water. I should count a minor blessing. She doesn't offer me this synthetic cranberry drink or -- are you ready for this? -- EGG NOG to knock it back. While I'm washing up, in comes Danny, the maintenance man, through the patio door. He doesn't call out or knock or anything. He just walks in. I hope he got a good look at my tits. I should have shaken them for him. Are we finished with this salvo of idiocy? Nooooo... Next comes the after seven med cart nurse. She wants to give me my vitamin pill. If you want to give me a vitamin pill, then why have you got a little plastic cup of goo and a spoon? This looks exactly like the parley used to get tranqs into raving betsy- wetsies. I offer a succint question: Lady, if that's a pill it's in the wrong form. And if you don't know what form I take, then how do I know if you're giving me the right stuff? She had no answer, turned on her heel and left with a great squeal of rubber on tile. A while later, here I am internetting away and I feel there is a presence in the room. Sure enough, Danny has slipped in and is fooling around with my teevee behind me. I ask him what the hell he thinks he's doing. He's all, Oh, I'm just looking to see if your teevee is marked. (Why, asshole, so you'll know if you can fence it real fast?) He wants then to know whether I want it marked with my Social Security number. No, I do not. The idiot doesn't know that, in this state at least, you should mark items with your driver license number. I tell him to get lost and not to be in my room or around my stuff without permission. Lunch is called. I'm not participating in this dingdong social dining any longer. My wagons are circled. I'm staying in my room as much as possible and I am not taking any announced trips elsewhere, and I'm not staying long when I do go. They bring my tray to the room. The social dining attendant asks why I am not going in there. I tell her because there is a thief on the premises. Not long after, Miss Ralph shows up with the property list I filled out when I moved in. The scanner isn't on there, but we fixed that. I added it to the list in the same ink (an unusual color) as I used to make the original list. Miss Ralph dated it back and noted that she'd seen the radio in my possession many times. I asked if she had mentioned to Danny that the radio was missing. Miss Ralph wasn't sure if she'd blabbed or not. I'd like to know how he knew about it so fast. I also told her I didn't want to see Danny anywhere near me and my stuff without an express invitation. While I didn't come out and say I now suspect him as well, I think Miss Ralph got the message. This ain't a done deal yet, babies... =================================================================