How has your week been? I've been alright. I'm the type that reads comics. I'd show you my haul for this week but Crossed Badlands is there and I don't think you people would want to see the wrap cover I had picked out. I also got Shigeru Mizuki's Showa book, it's very good, you should all read it.
Anyway as the title implies for this entry, I've had this scenario in my head since like 2 weeks ago but I'm writing it from scratch right here, and all in English this time for more people to enjoy. Let me see how far I can take this tonight.
Troubled Teen Incident
You wanna know what happens when somebody blasts a kid's loved ones right in front of him? He doesn't lie around next to their cold dead bodies after the whole thing's over, that's stupid, that's what the animals do. In real life, the kid runs. Runs like all Hell from the loudest thunder cracking he's gonna recall for the rest of his life and the unsightly face of somebody in their lives in complete pain. I know this because I've made that run myself when I was younger, and this whole clusterfuck I'm about to warn you about began with this kid I had met making that run. He had run straight at me when it happened to him, I felt like all the help in the world he could need, because that's exactly how he looked at me as he rushed out. Kids aren't clowns when they watch someone get hurt, what they do is run for help. I was there in the canteen getting everything ready, it was my shift, I didn't hear any blasts, but as soon as he told me I understood it was just too serious and it needed to get handled promptly. I told him to stay inside, tell the orderlies, and do exactly as they say. I rush out to that hill not thinking twice, this was wrong, he's not here to make that run, he's here because his parents told him to stay put. He was doing fine, why the fuck would someone walk in and hinder all that? Some kinda crazy backwoods drifter running around here raising some ruckus and scaring the kids, I need to kick his ass straight out of these premises, and I need to do that yesterday. I find the guy, looked like your average hobo working some oddjobs, checkered shirt, snowcap and filthy dead beard. Ran straight at him without saying anything, he had a big log in his hands he had used as a club, and he was slow as Hell, he raises that log with both hands and I just came in lowering it, knocking his face away. He falls straight down like nothing, I make him lie on his belly before putting his arms in place and prop him back up pulling his shirt. He whimpers like a lamb as every hobo you ever met that just got caught doing something stupid would do, and I smack him in the back of the head asking him "The fuck you think you're doing?!" - as if I had been raised by filthy saracens, and I drag him away. It was over as quickly as it had started. Now you might assume that there was some controversy shortly thereafter over my...violent treatment of this individual I had assaulted for the mere act of trespassing on our premises, something that could've been resolved verbally and more responsibly by just warning him to stand down before resorting to...bricks, in my fists. But, you should understand, the situation had already gone out of hand by the time I had arrived. By the time the kid had made his run. This was in Boise, Idaho. I now work in Davenport, Iowa. I had to leave Idaho because two kids died on my watch. Some drifter, snuck into a for-profit adolescent treatment facility one afternoon, and clubbed two kids being treated there, with a log.
Went through the motions, it's worse than Hell. My side of the story is something I would want to get wiped off my mind, along with that entire year. I honestly want to lose an entire year of my life, not having any idea what the fuck had happened and how I lost all that miserable time. Now I'm not saying this to be dramatic, I just don't want you to get the wrong impression if I tell you that the fallout was worse than the controversy itself. I was well aware this was nothing you could easily recover from, I knew that they were gonna shut the place down and I had already ironed out the details for my transfer. I had some good connections, and they were great, they'd consistently put a good word for me. But what came before that jump was just an extreme nobody expected. First it was the press, something I actually thought we could handle because the journalists worked the garbage news. Then it was the bloggers, then the testimonies from our former charges, patients, people claiming we had dealt with them, and then ultimately it came down to every kid I had escorted stood up and described my job as kidnapping. Now, there's a certain, procedure for us to escort the troubled adolescent from his household and into our facilities. It only sounds like kidnapping on the TV screens and computer monitors because we advise the parents to not give prior knowledge to increase the boy or girl's anxiety, and prevent the threat of self-harm. And Lord knows, we've seen our share of cutters, it is the most disgusting thing in the world. So basically, we get scheduled by the parents to drop in on the kid's life, unannounced, more often than not during nights, and we escort them. It's the transport service, it's statewide. For this job in question I left Davenport for Louisville. I was to work with two other contacts, Jenny and Steve. Steve's fatter than me and bald, he sports a broken nose, I had a black eye in my face. We've both been getting into fights lately because when the bloggers put the spotlight and your workplace, and label you a kidnapper, you get people with too many time on their hands. You get vigilantes, you get stalkers. You get followed around from your workplace and to your home, to your loved ones, and they take pictures. They then proceed to post these pictures deep buttfuck on the internet on some...image boards, I dunno. And with all that unwanted attention your job suddenly becomes a hilarious risk. My fiance at first was incredibly supportive and wouldn't listen to what all these stupid had to say, but her brother managed a flight at his own expense to kick my ass, deliver her ring back, and tell me to stay away from his sister because he caught wind on how and why she's been getting some creepyass phonecalls. I arrived to Louisville completely sore, but ready for work. I don't want to ask Steve how things are, we just sit there quietly in the rental car offices waiting for Jenny. His cool enough to let me bum him two cigs and by the second one she had finally arrived, still dressed as if she were working in a courtroom. She would escort kids too but, legally. Until she caught a bit of heat of her own.
We kicked in silence, into gear as soon as we had met up, Steve wanted to drive and that was a plus for me because it was almost midnight, I felt dead tired....
(continuara) -AA
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