By Joshua Ryan
Chapter 19: Headgear that Says It All
Twenty slaps can make a huge racket when they’re reluctantly waking up, and that’s what was happening next morning, when my shift was getting ready to start. They were rushing around in their undershorts, pissing and shitting, washing their faces and pits, and taking the hair off their faces with the little electric razors attached to the wall next to the john. A quick jump into uniform, and at 5 am sharp (!) one of the security slaps unlocked the door of the barracks. Everybody piled out. Oatmeal and sausage and coffee were hitting the table. The oatmeal was sticky and cold, and the sausage was mainly grease, but the coffee had such a kick that right away you were completely awake. Then a door opened, stools scrunched back, and we lined up for Boss Derek’s inspection. “Lace up those boots.” “Yes boss.” “Use the comb.” “Yes boss.” “Button that shirt, all the way up–where do you think you’re working?” “Yes boss, ver’ sorry boss.” “Lose that attitude.” “Yes boss, ver’ ver’ sorry boss.” Having readied us for the rest of our day, he sat down at his desk, and a security slap unlocked the big barred door at the end of the room.
“Follow me,” Dave said. “I’m you trainer.”
