# 7

Sling Blade checked in Friday with a one-off impression of the character that made BBT famous. This one's sporting a mohawk that's mostly grown out. Mid 50's? fuck I don't know, could be a severely weathered 40's.

I'm on my bunk finishing up last weeks NYT
 Sling Blade lurches over and asks me , "Cans you have plastic hangers, here?"
 I tilt the paper forward-down and look up at him "I don't know."
He retreats but is still looking for answers(it's all in the handbook).

 This guy was not going to stop at one question. I'm not much for questions.

SB is already complaining - "...in a place like this you'd expect them guards to wake you up for work, mm hmm."

"You gotta pay to do the laundries?"

"How much?"

The voice in your head that's talking like Sling Blade is pretty much dead on. He doesn't do the "mm hmm" but I added it for our enjoyment.
I've got SB for 120 days -

Also last night Adidas , who is a nosy walrus, is scarfing food and says to me , "Lipski, did you have any of this?"

"No"

"What did you eat today?"

"Do you seriously want a list of what I had to eat today?"

"You never eat"


"The question is, why do you eat this shit? You're out for twelve hours a day and then you come in here and shovel this shit down your throat."

"It's free food"


"It's shit. I don't eat shit."

"You better get used to it."

(this makes no sense I don't have to get used to it I'm in work-release)

"Why would I have to get used to it?"

Now he's out of things to say.

 He also takes interest in my writing at least enough to ask me the same questions - "So, Lipski, what are you writing like a book or a journal or something? Have you ever written a script? Me and my brother have always wanted to write a script but neither one of us can write for shit or you know, have any ideas."

Then why in the fuck would you 'always' feel compelled to write a script? And I don't think there's any question as to what type of script he'd want to write the only question is if Stallone  is up for another Rambo (probably).
He and his assumed moronic brother probably always wanted to got to Mars after watching Total Recall  or wanted to fly jets after watching ....

This I promise:
 The next time I am asked about 'my writin', I will say, "I write about people who bother the shit out of me and I post it on the internet and a few people read about you."



Young guy wants to know what I'm drawing. I say I'm sketching out a plan for a small trailer I'm converting into a camper, he says, "Oh, so your drawing something real, then?"

Yes, it's really real, really, like you, terribly real.

Cedric The Oxygen Tank Inhaler pulls out a chair right behind me with the box of dominoes in his other hand. He's entirely too loud and also supplementary-annoying for a guy that needs oxygen assistance.

This, however, can not stand. Not right fucking behind me.

"You're not going to sit behind me, right? You're fucking kidding me."

"What habee tah fooh payta (? - also really hard to understand despite volume/forced oxygen [which, I should mention is used 'as needed', not like it's a permanent appliance, yet])

"You're loud"

"Wha?"

"YOU'RE TOO FUCKING LOUD I CAN'T STAND YOU WHEN YOU'RE IN THE OTHER ROOM YOU CAN NOT POSSIBLY BE CONSIDERING SITTING RIGHT BEHIND ME."


(What? He's hard of hearing)

Anyway, he sits at the far side of the table behind me and I think, I just think, he tried to work on his inside voice.
Then he offered me a Jolly Rancher. I passed.