Gary Waid, Bartime Stories From Starke, Florida, prison, New River CI, Florida State Prison, guards

"Hi Guys, Here's a thing I did way back at FSP. Found it the other day cleaning. It's sick humor. Take care Gary"

PS: "Kay, please thank people for their letters, etc....It is way cool to get mail, but I can't answer everyone, as I only have a little time at night."

BARTIME STORIES FROM STARKE
by
Gary Brooks Waid
(COULD be fiction)

....at a Tavern in Starke one Quiet Afternoon.

"Hey, Harry. Long time, no see."

"Oh. Yeah. Hi Bill. Gimme a cold one."

"Things okay at home, good buddy? You look a little blue."

"Aw, hell, Bill. I ain't doin' so good. Got suspended at the job, an' the wife's pissed. Had to knock her around...."

"Yeah. Heard there's been some trouble at the prison."

"Goddammit, Bill. Would'a been okay if it weren't for them suicides."

"Tough luck. How 'bout a shot 'a likker."

"Sure. We had a guy eat his toilet last week. Another tied himself up in a sheet and beat himself to death with a shower shoe."

"No shit?"

"Would I lie? Tried to stop the toilet guy. But when we used all the proscribed methods, over and over, his nuts accidentally swelled up like beach balls."

"Go figure."

"And last month there were those other ones. The guy who refused to breathe? Turned blue and died. And the drowning guy? found him in the toilet. And the dude who cut his own heart out with his toothbrush."

"Must'a been depressed."

"No respect for the law."

The Next Week, Same Bar in Starke.

"Hi, Harry. Been awhile. Beer?"

"You bet, Bill. Set 'er up."

"I guess you're feelin' better this week. What's happening at the prison?"

"Aw Goddamn, I'm feelin' great, Bill. Got back to work. Wife's bruises are healin...."

"So what's your secret?"

"I'm on this new squad at FSP. Called Inmate Suicide Prevention Response Team. Been training for almost a day."

"No stuff?"

"Yeah, buddy. Already been at work. Just today prevented an inmate suicide. Found this guy almost ready to do it."

"Wow. Ain't that the shi..."

"Stopped him in time, though. Looked like the guy wasn't doin' nothin', you know, writing a letter to his mom or something. But we could tell; saw the warning signs."

"What'd you do?"

"Applied the proper corrective measures. We beat his ass."

"Beat his ass?"

"Beat his ass."

"But....."

"Shut up, Bill an' gimmee a shot'a jack . . . Or I'll stop your suicide, too."