Officer Roth,
Good day, First and Foremost, please forgive my previous utilization of 'Officer Roth;' to include a lack of '2nd Class' as a prefix, if that is what’s properly, formally required, I'm afraid I am not completely privy to the usages of your Official; albeit preferred, title/titles.
Can I call you Gary Lee? It seems a little more catchy to me for some reason. Though I can't really place my finger on as to why. It feels kinda Classic-Rockish- I suppose. Like I wanna get up and... 'Jump;' for lack of a better word. I don't know, you tell me:

(Overheard Ringside announcement)

it'd be pandemonium at your house come the holidays I bet. So just a couple months or so ago it could have been crazy at your house; Puke in the garbage, confetti in the coffee maker (instead of grounds), finger avulsions on broken non twist beer bottles, fractured skulls on soft-wood-bamboo flooring; that stuff dents and scratches easy, so watch out if you have it, then again if'n you do I'm sure you already found that out with your first dropped spoon

or if you ever had to move the fridge out.
Oh shoot! I know why that name sounds familiar. I can't believe I didn't pick up on it right away. It's the name of one of Rock and Roll's most epic voices. None other than Gary Cherone of the Funk-Rock, Portmanteau using band 'Extreme.' The Tragic Comic himself. 'Stut-tut-tut-tering Pah-poet.' I love that song. I'm so jealous of you, man.
Anyway, you have my permission to use it: 'Gary Lee,' that is. My gift to you... You know, since I missed Christmas last year and all. You're welcome. We'll have to call it 'Bro-mas' in this instance. God, it's like we know each other already! Crazy right? It's the magic of the 'Gary Lee,' I'm telling you. How Extreme isn't more... 'Extreme,' I guess, in the hearts and minds of America is beyond me. Did you know they have an unreleased demo from their earlier days at the end of their latest album ' Saudades De Rock' called 'Americocaine,'? (That’s that Portmanteau I was referring to earlier.) It's a rocker, bro. You should totally blast it on the system at your house I'm not sure you have after emptying the glitter from the coffee maker and taking out the bedazzled, pukey trash.
Anyway I'm betting that name is going to make your life so much better. (Just assuming.) You're welcome in advance, 'Gary Lee's' a kickass name to use before Roth. Hey! You could totally emblazon it on one of those shiny gold name tags officers wear at work too!

That'd elicit; at the very least, some winks from the ladies, if you don't get them already, I venture to guarantee. I know I'd wink, and I'm a card carrying heterosexual male, just to be clear. Maybe you could even go so far as to embroider it in gold or platinum stitching on the front pocket of your bowling league shirt too, so as you could also capture the hearts and minds at the local tourney, even if you’re so bad as to normally lob out and divot the piss, glue and dovetail joints out of the hard-soft-oily lane wood with the ball.
So, how were the real holidays for you, Gare'? I know they were a few months ago, but… why not ask? Mine was... Well, 'were' pretty tame... Me, personally I don't exactly have a lot of time on my hands... so to speak, what with work and well, I pull an eight hour shift at an auto parts store that will remain unnamed for the sake of the innocent;

(Fortune 500 company that’s often a on worst companies to work for lists)

The innocent being myself an 'some' of the employees I work with, that is. In my experience Auto part customers are like chiggers (unless the term 'sand fleas' is more appropriate)

(Illustrated representation of Sand Fleas and their foretold allusion to a false deity)

or what I imagine the Anti-Christ incarnate times...  Well, whatever the number of customers I've helped over the years has been; the ‘nth’ degree I suppose you could say; though a mathmatician I am not, dear sir, I will admit.

[Although I did once hear about the zeta function in a Pynchon book. A Theoretical formula if I do remember properly, though the book was well over a thousand pages and it is Pynchon after all, you're bound to passively read at least nine tenths of his writing. (Is Anti-Christ incarnate redundant since He, She or They / It would have to be alive to be the Anti-Christ or would that just be someone who's like- 'akin' to the Anti-Christ? Boy, why does Christianity mired against the purer solipsism of the Atypical, life ruining auto part customer have to be so confusing?)]
My guess is they're a bunch of Meryl Streep loving whiners who have nothing better to do than cry about how it's 'My' fault and not their 'Own,' that they don't know how to fix 'Their' car, or how 'They' want 'Me' to replace a burned up headlight because 'It's' raining, and they don’t want to get 'Their' clothes wet. Like mine are disposable or paid for by the company so it’s no big deal, cause I can just go home during my shift and throw them in the dryer. Oh! I love the one about how it makes no sense I work at an auto part store and I'm not a mechanic. You guard a prison facility, but you aren't a real cop and no one seems to question 'that' do they?
That’s ‘cause you aren't! A real cop that is. It's like a universally held axiom, you think that'd carry over to auto parts salesman, right, but it just doesn't. It couldn't POSSIBLY be the root cause of their predicament is they're incompetent,

could it? Or that the auto part store that I work at; which shall remain anonymous,

(An additional visual representation of the Corporate Beast. If you ever have a return they just make employees destroy the product so it can’t be reused and throw it in the trash. Real good policy for the environment, huh?)

doesn't pay employees who 'aren't' mechanics enough to survive above the poverty line, so why on Anti-Christ's water

covered, Kevin Costner earth would an individual with an established trade skill work there for Obama, Makerbot pennies on the dollar anyway?

(Subsidized Federal Reserve Method)

So, after my eight hour shift and the commute home, I also have to feed my sister's cat when I arrive. She's kind of, oh, what's the word? Ah, yes, 'Lazy' about the whole affair; my sister, not the cat, to be clear, he's actually pretty productive for a cat, if the amount of calamity and Bedlam I often find upon my return is any indication of his work ethic. My sister, on the other hand doesn't particularly like to clean out his box as often as she should; or pet and give him scratchies the way he likes either; if we're being honest with each other, Gare'. I mean, certainly/admittedly he does have some pungent and repugnantly corrosive smelling duke; for a Tabby, if I do say so from my own take on the situation, but that on account of no reasonable means... Means he should be treated... foully. Not that he is, I guess- I just feel strong about his kind of: being ignored.

My mother thinks it’s probably his food that causes the 

'rankness,' for lack of a better word. But it's the dry stuff, so that really baffles my mind on just: a holistic level as to how it could be the cause. But I've also heard or read that a rotten cat tooth can cause bad breath... In ‘cats’ specifically, to be clear; not people, though that wasn't specifically addressed in whatever source material I was being fed. What a ‘person’ would be doing with a rotten cat tooth in their system is a question of a whole different matter. But if the situation were reversed and people with rotten... ‘People’s’ tooths were studied and considered, I imagine similar results could be concluded. (To say, 'Bad breath' in this case; not adverse results were a people tooth inside a cat if you interpreted this ‘situational reversal’ in a purer, more literal sense, to be clear; though I imagine the potential resulting intestinal blockage might trump the bad breath issue. Not to mention compromise the integrity of highly sought after Chinese guitar strings.)

Do you know much about domestic animal smells? You're kind of in the ‘formally,’ 'domesticating' people trade; or at least the reinforcement of it. So, you know, maybe you have knowledge of something better than baking soda to mask odor.

I don’t know, maybe there just needs to be some research done to establish whether skat potency is also detrimentally effected by dental hygienics. Then again isn't ‘all’ skat detrimental by definition?
Cats have Canines, right? That’s a 'dog' tooth! Ironic... Or maybe they're called 'Felines' in cats, hmm… might have to do some research pertaining to that.

Anyway, back to accounting for the hours of my 'waking' day: so after feeding the cat, I also have to make food for myself, naturally. Boy if that isn't one of the most drawn out chores. Groceries, storage, prep… sans pukey garbage; in my case, dishes... So now we're up to accounting for about... Eight and a HALF to Nine hours of my day hours. And well- Moving on... If I don't get this letter done soon-ish it could quite easily begin to encroach on the precious few remaining minutes of my day not allotted for sleep.

Oh, how I envy the known life of a coma patient, huh, Gare'? It'd be a life's aspiration if it was verified they dream. You know how many self inflicted skull fractures I'd have, Gare'? At least four if the 'Try, try, try again,' philosophy was one I followed: The first failed blow being the one that instigated the philosophy and brought the count to four if you were only at a ‘three count’ from the philosophy itself. Albeit, I'm not a spiritual life form as far as 'philosophies' go. I'll save that for the cats... Just foolin', Gare’! I don't 'really' believe cats are spiritual life forms. But what are they always randomly looking at? But barring the question and finer parts of cat metaphysics, I wouldn't like a coma if there wasn't any dreaming, not that I would probably know one way or the other. Hell, I could be in a coma right now as far as Cartesian philosophy is concerned, to which I think that would mean animals don't feel pain, on account of their not having a 'Thinking, therefore 'Am' ing' soul. To whiching (sic)

my sister's cat's clamorous howl when his tail is stepped on, on those occasions he gets under a foot when searching for munchies, would run contrary.

I suppose, the whole physical therapy & Steven Segal Martial Arts regimen you'd have to go through when you woke up; on account of the whole muscle atrophy thing, is one of the more than disenfranchising unglamorous aspects of waking from a coma though; regardless Kelly Le Brock helping you along the prim-rose path to recovery with myofascial pressure release on problematically 'tense' inner thigh muscles.

(Coma Joke)

With all the work of recovery looming ahead I think I'd be that much more inclined to try punching the ol' occipital snooze button. Have you ever noticed how nicely faceted the Ball-peen hammer looks for that?

(Peen joke) 

The following time capsule effect from waking up after decades could be pretty awesome side effect though. So I might stick around for a few weeks to check things out. But forget about the time shock from falling asleep with a rotary and waking up to world of the iPhone. Think about waking up to the world cohabitating with visitors.

Maybe kind of like that show/movie  'Alien Nation,' but without the sour milk getting them drunk. That's just silly writing! Can you imagine Mandy Patinkin with his scalp freckles and his massive bear from 'Homeland'?
Couple plates of waffles and we'd have a foremidable 'Dead Like Me' reboot on our hands. (Though I don’t know if the Pop Culture paradigm could handle another origin story.)

(Intergalactic Individual of Action.)

Oh! So- back to speaking- err… writing about the holidays, you want to know how the holiday season really got me good for time? (Rhetorical question, of course I'm going to expound on it regardless) Presents! Oh! My Anti-Lord, they soaked me for time. I don't know about you, Gare', but dealing with gift wrapping definitely encroached into the other 16+ allotted hours I had for sleep those days. Like- I'm guessing it ate into at least one and a half to two of them. I almost threw the whole endeavor in the bag and... put everything in holiday bags.

Anyway... onto bigger, brighter and more interesting things, I always think about saying. I wonder what got me thinking about the holidays in the first place? Probably something a few pages back. Huh, Gary-Lee?

So, what is something illegal you have done at the prison? "You can't fool a fooler," Gare', "I can tell" as Mark Knopfler sings in the song 'You Can't Beat the House' on his 2009 solo


Brian's First Letter to Gary... The Prison Guard. (1)
Series Info | Table of Contents

Officer Roth,
Good day, First and Foremost, please forgive my previous utilization of 'Officer Roth;' to include a lack of '2nd Class' as a prefix, if that is what’s properly, formally required, I'm afraid I am not completely privy to the usages of your Official; albeit preferred, title/titles.
Can I call you Gary Lee? It seems a little more catchy to me for some reason. Though I can't really place my finger on as to why. It feels kinda Classic-Rockish- I suppose. Like I wanna get up and... 'Jump;' for lack of a better word. I don't...

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Table of Contents

Series Info