"Twas the night before Commissary"
Twas the night before Commissary and all through the jail
the inmates were locked down, nobody had bail.
I was in my cell; the guards they had no mail
Just settled down, wishing for a nice piece of tail.
When out in the yard there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bunk to see what was th ematter.
I ran to the window, hoping for a pass,
tripped over my bunkie and let out some gas.
There before my bloodshot eyes did appear what looked like a transport van, with reindeer?
Then a jolly old fella whipped out a bic,
I knew then and there it could not be St. Nick.
He had request forms and med slips, sweatshirts and mail.
My goodness, what's happening? Aren't we in jail?!
I thought it was Christmas but no, it was not.
It was commissary night- we just forgot!
For the C.O. had boxes and boxes of stuff, full of candy and coffee, surely enough.
But the inmates were hoping for joints and beers, even some treats for the A-Block queers.
'Twas not the night before Christmas after all
as he wailed out of sight with only a call ever so loud so all the inmates could hear:
"Next time when I get here,
have some money on your books if you want my Christmas cheer!"
What is this about anyway?
I have been a Deputy Probation Officer for a little over 9 years. The stories here are actual things that either myself or my co-workers heard, saw, or experienced. Enjoy... and be sure to check the archives! OR submit your story in a comment section below one of the entries.. it really does not matter which section. See the 'Got stories' directions on the right side of the blog.