If I were a prison Warden, I’d be picking up the phone pretty darn quick to see if I could make a deal with Jack Astor’s Bar & Grill whereby I would take all of the broken crayons off their hands at no charge. Instead of pencils or pens, both of which can easily be fashioned into some sort of weapon to be used against me, I’d give my prisoners the broken crayons to write letters to home with. Let’s face it, there isn’t too much damage a prisoner can inflict on me with a broken crayon, except for maybe the inflammatory comments and drawings they doodle on the walls of their cells at my expense, but those would cause more emotional pain than physical, so you have to take the bad with the good I suppose. A prison Warden needs to have thick skin, otherwise he’d probably be depressed a lot of the time, what with being in a place where most of the people don’t like him and all. And every Tuesday afternoon when I go on my crayon collection run over to Jack Astor’s, I could keep my fingers crossed thinking that maybe this time they might even throw in some free garlic bread. I like garlic bread. But if I’m not going to eat it right then and there, I think I’d ask them to put that garlic butter that they pour all over it in a little cup on the side, otherwise my garlic bread would get all soggy, and there’s nothing worse than getting home and opening a container filled with soggy garlic bread mush. If I wanted porridge I would have asked for porridge, but I don’t like porridge, so I probably wouldn’t ever ask for it. I’d much rather have pancakes. But don’t even think about putting fruit into my pancakes! No way man, I like my pancakes left alone with no other ingredients getting in the way. Just leave them nice and thick and spongy so they can soak up all the maple syrup, because the best part of having pancakes isn’t even the pancakes themselves, it’s the syrup. The pancake is nothing more than a vessel that transports the maple syrup from my plate to my mouth. Sometimes the maple syrup drips onto my shirt, and that makes me mad. A lot of people like to smoke when they’re mad, but not me, I don’t smoke. I think the only reason people even take up smoking is for the additional work breaks, because really, why else would they do it? Smoking stinks and makes your fingers turn yellow, so no thanks I’ll pass. I like to pass drivers who are smoking as quickly as I can, because for some reason smoker’s drive slowly. Maybe it’s because the car window is partially open, and they don’t want to mess up their hair. Bald smokers don’t have that problem, but they do have to wear sunscreen or a hat when they cut the grass. Some people like cutting grass, but I’m not one of those people. If I was the prison Warden I’d make the prisoners who were interested in the grass cutting position submit resumes to me written in crayon, and then hire whoever uses the green crayon most effectively. I’d have to be careful though, because the prisoner I hire could try to cut the grass slowly to maximize his time outdoors, so somehow I’d have to find a way to eliminate the turtle speed on the riding lawnmower, and rig it so that there is only the rabbit speed. This isn’t a Sunday afternoon drive, this is prison, so he needs to get it done fast. I don’t want the other prisoners getting jealous and starting a riot. Quiet Riot was a band back in the day, but I don’t know if there is such a thing as a quiet riot. Riots are normally loud and out of control, or the equivalent of a big party, but with periodic violence. Everybody have fun tonight, everybody Wang Chung tonight! But don’t Wang Chung with nun-chucks, ‘cause that could cause some serious damage. I seem to have gotten off topic. What was I talking about again?