"Damn it, I wanna know what's goin' on. Something's goin' on with some of these boys, you can just tell. I can feel it, somethin' sexual is goin on and I wanna know what. That means you staff need to be lookin out better. I don't want it to be easy for these boys to be havin' sex, I want it to be hard. So we gotta make it hard for them. Be standing in the doorways, following them around the corners, listening in to what they be sayin' to each other. Now what the hell is goin' on on Sundays?"
Oh, here we go. I work on Sundays, Yolanda does not. I'm in charge of the shift on Sundays, so now, just like so many other staff meetings like this one, Yolanda is going to end up asking me to explain something that happened on the shift. She and I agree on just about everything in terms of supervising the boys, and she sometimes prods me to spell out this agreement during staff meetings. It's not a bad strategy to show the rest of the staff that even though we don't always work together, we are still on the same page.
She continued, "If it's not one thing goin' on, it's another. If it ain't creepy-ass Freddie sneaking around preying on the little boys, its Michael and Francis playin' Santa Claus sittin' in each others' laps. Now what I wanna know is how Jim Beam managed to eat some more thumb tacks and ain't no one was around to stop him. He told me he ate them on Sunday, and I wanna know: Is it true? And if it's true, how come didn't no one stop him?"
Jimmy Beam has a history of eating sharp and dangerous objects. He will usually threaten to do so when he can't get his way or he gets a consequence, like a time-out that he doesn't agree with.
Staff will say, "Jimmy take a time out, you can't cuss in here."
"Nope, I'll eat glass. You can't stop me either cuz that's abuse. I'll eat this battery, I did before. I don't care, you can't take care of me, I'll eat this tack. Fuck you, bitch, I'll eat it then I'll die and you'll get fired and it'll serve you right because you're a cracker-ass white-Elvis looking ho."
I have indeed seen him eat glass and rocks and pins. I have taken him to the doctor myself and the doctor always tells me that Jimmy will probably pass it without any problems, and he always has.
Yolanda's question obviously fell on me. "You know what? It could be true. I was playing chess with him that afternoon in the living room, you know how he likes that one-on-one attention. Well, you probably read the incident report about Freddie humping the back of the couch? Well, Freddie somehow got behind the couch and laid down behind it. By the time I noticed he wasn't sitting on station, he must've been well into it. I heard Mel start yellin, 'I know you ain't fuckin' no furniture!" and I jumped up to get him out of there. It turns out he had his pants down to his ankles and was humping the space in between the couch and the floor. You know how the kids go fuckin' ballistic when they see something like that going on, well they did, and we had to try and shut the house down and get Freddie into the Quiet Room at the same time. You know that's a nightmare with 4 staff for 10 boys. Jimmy started threatening to eat something, but I wasn't really listening to him because I was dealing with Freddie's naked ass at the time. I think Jimmy must've eaten some tacks off the bulletin board as he was going back to his room. I know he was pissed off about it because stupid-ass Freddie took all my attention away from Jimmy."
This is my job.
"Well, I don't want no kids havin no sex with each other no more," Yolanda said. "I'm just sick and tired trying to explain how our kids somehow manage to get it on with each other because we ain't payin' attention. I would rather have someone fuck the damn couch instead of one of his peers. We know who the sexual kids are and they should be our first priority."
With that, the staff meeting was over, it was time to go pick up the boys from school and time for my teammates and me to work the evening shift. Yolanda's speech was effective; we all seemed to have a good head of steam going into the shift, agreeing on our sight lines, which parts of the house each of us would be supervising, and which kids seemed most likely to offend. And that shift was tight, too. There wasn't any wiggle room for any kids to get out of our sights and the shift ran like clockwork. By 10pm, we were tired, but at least we had a great day. No incident reports, clean house, all boys asleep. All we had to do now was give Night-Awake staff the summary of the day, and we were out of there. The four of us all greeted the Night-Awake at the kitchen counter and proceeded to give him a brief explanation of the day's events.
About 5 minutes into this discussion, we heard a blood-curdling scream come from one of the bathrooms. Mellow Bill and I ran to the bathroom and opened the door.
I was completely aghast at what I saw. There was J'Michael, sitting naked on the toilet. On the floor was a huge, bright red puddle of blood. In J'Michael's hand was his dick, spurting an impossible amount of blood all over him and the toilet. J'Michael was screaming in agony, "I'm gon' die! I'm gon' die!"
"Holy shit! What happened?" I thought he might have been stabbed.
"I, I...I was jacking off too hard!" was his reply.
I had to think about this for a minute. Now, when I was a teenager, say 13 or 14, I jacked off a lot. And, I jacked off pretty hard sometimes. But I'll be damned if I ever jacked off so hard that my dick exploded in my hand. No, this was a first for me.
At any rate, this really was a medical emergency, so we wrapped him up in a sheet and Bill rushed him off to the hospital.
This left one hell of a mop up job for me. As I mopped and cleaned, I could only ponder what had really happened to poor J'Michael's dick. The answer was to come by way of Jim Beam's teasing voice. I looked toward his doorway and saw just his arm sticking out, waving a pair of blood soaked tighty-whities.
"Oh Stokie! I think you better take me to the hospital, too! I told you I was gonna eat those tacks!"
No comments:
Post a Comment