***Newsletter of the Section***
***Volume One, Section One, Issue Six, Square One***
"Because at the Section, it's always back to Square One."
This Week's Episode: New Regime
March 6, 1998
*****
OPEN LETTER FROM OPERATIONS
To All Section Operatives:
We have certainly gone to hell in a handbasket lately, haven't we? I am
happy to report that I once again have an iron grip on things and am back
in charge here at the Section. We should all slap each other on the back
and say a hearty, "Well done!" I would personally like to thank everyone
who contributed to keeping me alive and restoring me to power. If you
drop by my office, I'll even shake your hand. But remember: I have an
iron grip. Ha! I'm such a kidder. It's good to be alive!
Welcome back to the status quo.
Operations
*****
SHARING:
THE POETRY OF SECTION ONE
*****
Upon occasion we at The Egress receive submissions of a more literary sort
from our operatives: poetry. We haven't quite known what to do with these
submissions, but we've been faithfully collecting them. Considering what
we've all been through in past weeks, we thought it might be therapeutic
to share these soulful outpourings. These gushings should reassure our
traumatized legions that no matter what you're feeling, you're not
alone--you're just better at keeping it to yourselves. Self-expression
*is* important, however, and if any of our readers would like to put their
Innermost Yearnings on public display, don't hesitate to do so. Many
Section poets prefer to submit poems anonymously, but if you're just
itching to see your name in print, we'd be happy to oblige.
Please remember when judging these efforts that our operatives are not
professional poets--may not, in fact, come anywhere near a professional
level
of competence. All right, we admit it, some of this stuff is really bad,
but keep in mind that English is not the first language of many of our
operatives, and that they really are trying their best to verbalize some
very complicated emotion. Also remember that education is not the primary
focus of prison, and liberal arts education is not the primary focus of
much of any institution these days. (But I'm *not* bitter.)
Section One verse has come to us in many forms, from couplets to blank
verse to modern. Some operatives did not have the time or concentration
for full poems and submitted haiku. Submit your verse or haiku to The
Egress c/o the editor, Nobody, and we may include more in future issues.
*****
BOMB BOY
People think because I like
to make things go kaboom,
that I must have a rhino's hide,
and never sink in gloom.
But even though explosions are
my passion and my zen,
it doesn't mean my heart is stone
or that I don't need friends.
And when I am betrayed by friends
how sharp that shrapnel bites!
That's when I get to wonderin'
how to make lipstick ignite.
*****
MISSION
Guns and plastique
and uzis abound.
Like lightning and thunder
explosions rock the ground.
True to the mission,
the bad guy is found,
the intel secured,
and the guards are on the ground.
*****
SHE KILLS IN BEAUTY
Her beauty is as radiant
as the sun which hurls
over the horizon,
spitting morning in my face.
Ah, Beauty, cannot you see
how dangerous is love?!
It requires safety belts
or we will crash headlong
through Love's Windshield,
eviscerating ourselves!
Ah, Love, if I could but shove
a cork in our volcano!
How oft have I pondered:
Should I love her?
Should I shoot her?
Which of these?
(with thanks to *The Owl and the Pussycat,* *Prizzi's Honor,*
and Mr. Roy Dupuis)
*****
RUN! THE SIM!
Data
data
data
running
like
rivers:
run
the
sim!
Run!
The sim!
Cool
blue
data
rushing
flashing
swimming
It's not linear. Nobody gets that.
Nobody!
Gets that!
Like
drops
in
an
ocean,
a cybersea:
ocean
of
numbers
running.
Ah.
*****
HAIKU
When my hand caresses your
long, sleek tube, I find peace,
my love, my Glock.
Pretty bomb of twinkling lights
why do you not explode?
My a*s is grass.
Friendly brown suede hat
which keeps my noggin warm:
why do they hate you so?
He shakes my hand
because my death he planned:
I had better operatives.
Oh, how sharper then a
serpent's tooth is that
big knife stuck in my gut!
A bullet in his heart:
he died well, not a peep.
Didn't bleed much. Wow.
(Thanks to Tawna for her assistance in editing some of the poetry.)
*****
***RECENT SEPARATIONS***
Egran Petrosian, for bad managerial policy, RIP
Sykes, for terminal bumbling, RIP
That Guy Who Shot Ops, for shooting Ops, RIP
Manny, Moe and Jack, Kukla, Fran and Ollie, Crosby, Stills and Nash,
and Reilly, in the line of duty, RIP
*****
FEATURED OPERATIVE OF THE WEEK
Editor's Note: What with War and New Regimes and all, Section is playing
ducks and drakes with our editorial deadlines. We had planned profiles of
both Sykes and Egran Petrosian. Both of these have had to be scrapped, of
course.
****
ON THE LIGHTER SIDE
What is your most embarassing Section One moment?
Frick: We went to do a job. An easy job: a very special ventilation of a
prisoner who had not taken Madeline seriously enough. I pulled the tubing
and syringe from my briefcase along with a vial of ventilation fluid.
Frack had clamped the prisoner's mouth open and was stuffing a hose down
his throat when she said quite unexpectedly, "Nice haircut." It caught me
off guard--she doesn't usually speak--and although my face remained
passive and my voice steady when I said, "Thanks," I actually *hesitated*
for a fraction of a second before filling the syringe with the fluid. I
have never been so humiliated in my life.
*****
***ASK MADDY***
Note from Maddy:
The questions regarding the turmoil with Red Cell two weeks ago continue
to come in as people try to deal with that trauma. In addition, new
trauma was heaped upon the Section again this week as our beloved Ops went
through some rather troubling times. I will be addressing both issues in
this week's column.
*****
Dear Maddy:
Due to the recent events affecting Section One, my staff and I have been
subjected to an unusual degree of duress. Morale is low, frustration is
rampant, the bodies keep pouring in, the heaters are broken, the
refrigeration units are on the blink, space is fast becoming limited and
somehow, someone forgot to deliver our weekly ration of coffee and
danishes.
How can we be expected to perform to the best of our abilities with such
poor working conditions? And why the hell do you all keep dying?! My
Goddess! What are you all doing over there? Waving down Red Cell
soldiers? Prostrating yourselves on train tracks? What?!
Signed,
Drowning in Embalming Fluid
Dear Fluid:
Times have indeed been stressful. And as often as we slap Red Cell
down, they keep popping up again. Who would have thought those
chuckleheads had the brain power to be such effective enemies? I mean,
would *you* have fallen for the old "abandoned rendering plant off the
canal in Frankurt* gag? (If you answered yes to that question, please
report immediately for a new battery of psych tests.)
And I am most sorry for the breakdown in your working conditions at this
time, but now that the Petrosian Administration is safely out of the way
and a more experienced second-in-command is back in the saddle (so to
speak) these problems should disappear. I have issued immediate orders to
rush coffee and danish to the morgue (double rations of each), and hope to
clear up the other problems in short order. You'll be happy to know we
made a tidy profit from the combination Rummage Sale/Fire Sale last week,
and I think you can expect to see new refrigeration units, at the very
least, in a matter of days. In the meantime, I understand wintergreen
smeared on the upper lip is an affective way of deadening the nose to
offensive odors.
You see, Maddy will take care of you.
Maddy
*****
Dear Mad-DEL-line:
Due to "unfortunate" circumstances I was chosen to fill in for someone
higher up at my place of employment. It was a position I have hope-ed to
attain someday, but not on a temporary basis.
How could I be expected to institute my ideas when everyone there had a
well established routine and knew that I was only in charge temporarily?
How could I gain the respect I felt I needed from the employees to have
things function properly?
Signed,
"Frank Burns"
Dear Burns:
It's not easy being a substitute. The kids don't take you seriously, they
mock you and undermine your authority, they throw things at you when you
turn around to write on the blackboard, and if you give them any homework
assignments, they just blow you off. Also, when you ask them what their
teacher had them studying last, they always tell you something like,
"independent study--we can all just read what we want."
And don't you think that perhaps, after all, that's the best line to take
when you're just stepping in for someone? Let everyone go about their
business as they always do. Otherwise, a substitute can get into big
trouble. It's fine to want to show you're gung-ho and "have what it
takes," but patience is also a virtue. The early bird *may* get the worm,
but remember, the worm is also capable of turning.
Maddy
*****
Dear Maddy:
I find it difficult to write this letter, but even more difficult *not* to
write it. Not long ago, I was terribly, terribly hurt by the actions of a
coworker who I not only thought was my friend, but one of the five percent
of people in Section who still have a soul. She seemed to fall in quite
easily with some rather nasty habits once she was in a position of
power, and now I'm beginning to wonder if I really am such a good judge of
character! Recent weeks have just been *too* stressful, what with wars and
power plays and jockeying for positon. I guess I'm just too sensitive . .
.
Signed,
Sensitive
Dear Sensitive:
I know, dear, I know. It's been a difficult time for us all. But now
things are back to the way they were always meant to be and we can get on
with running this show the way it's always been run! There's nothing like
a little boring same-old-same-old to restore the comfort level. Now,
dear, go back to playing with your little bomb thingies and let Maddy and
Ops do all the serious worrying. Take care. Remember: time heals all
wounds. That's not just an old adage--that's an order!
Maddy
*****
Dear Maddy:
Recently, I had a temporary assignment in a supervisorial position.
Although I found this assignment stimulating in many ways, there were also
many disturbing aspects to it. I realize it is a fact of life in Section
that we must lie to our friends and manipulate those we love when under
orders, but I found the experience distasteful. It didn't stop me from
doing it--I just found the experience distasteful. It was also
interesting to see how those who had previously been in a position over me
(in some cases, quite literally) resented being placed under me. Also, I
did not find it easy to rat out my friends. I am afraid they still
haven't gotten over it, and may not any time soon.
Having said all that, I must also say that I really liked having my
abilities tested and my capabilities stretched in new ways. And all those
swell clothes I got to wear! Such an improvement over basic grunge and
basic black. In my new clothes, I felt I could walk the streets with
pride. I really hope I get a new opportunity to stretch and grow. I
like being limber--and I like being stimulated!
Signed,
Limber Stim
Dear Stim:
I'm so happy for your, dear. It's not easy being the one on top, is it,
especially if you're usually on the bottom? But with practice, one can
learn to ride out the unpleasantness and pluck the rewards. I hope you
didn't find your sojourn with power too stressful. I did notice the other
day that you had on a sweater which looked several sizes too small for
you. Have you put on some weight? Oh well, no matter. When you're back
in shape, I'll be waiting for you.
Maddy
*****
Dear Maddy:
I am disturbed by an incident which I can only describe as a clear case of
sexual harassment. I was ordered (ostensibly for business reasons!) to
meet someone at a fancy restaurant, and when I got there, I realized I had
been ordered to meet this person as--how can I put this and not be
offensive? Well, as her good conduct medal, I guess! My presence was
required for no other reason then to . . . try to *please* her. I felt so
cheap, so used, so . . . dirty! I'm still shaking.
Signed,
Really Very Sensitive Once You Get To Know Me
Dear Really:
The New Reign of Terror is over, the Same Old Reign of Terror is back.
There will be no more of this unfortunate personal life stuff going on.
It's a good thing for that young lady we don't allow sexual harassment
suits in Section, or you'd have a good case. Of course, that young lady
could have probably filed on you at least a half dozen times. So I guess
that just means you'll have to . . . get over it!
Maddy
(Thanks to Carlotta de Bois-Guilbert and Jeff Barak for their assistance in
coordinating these letters for Maddy.)
*****
Editor: Nobody
(who makes no claim to know
anything about the English language)
Writers: Carlotta de Bois-Guilbert,Jeff Barak,Tawna and Nobody
Graphic Artist: Nobody
Layout & Paste up: Nobody
From A Concept By: Nobody
Based On An Idea By: Nobody
In Cooperation With: Nobody
This Has Been a Production of: Nobody
At the Behest of: Nobody
For the Edification of: Nobody
Published now and then when
Nobody wants it.
This newsletter is a work of fiction
and should not be taken to refer
to any real Section One operatives--
either living or dead.
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