Why do the schools do this to us? Why? Photo courtesy of dogbrindlebarks.blogspot.com
Day 104 of Spring Break.
I think the guard is becoming suspicious…
*-*-*-*-*
Plans are in place. Only one more day before I am free.*
I’ve tried to hide my growing excitement. I still swear like a drunken sailor whenever I step on crayons in the yard.
I only hope I didn’t give it away earlier. Boss Baby was playing in the rec room. There’s this scene where the kid is grounded—his bedroom is his prison. When the kid’s talking, wizard alarm clock tries to grab a shank to make a break for it, I about died laughing!**
Man, if that isn’t a sign I need to get out of here, I don’t know what is.
It wasn’t always this way; I used to have a life.***
Okay, so maybe casing the Gem and Mineral show isn’t the act of a repentant criminal, but can you blame a gal for seeking any kind of distraction when serving a life sentence?
Rhinestones $2.00? And they call me a thief!
All I want is a little clarity…cut, color, and carats! And what do they give me? False hope diamonds!
How come the pink obsidian gets a cool name but the yellow is just plain yellow? Sounds like a little rocky discrimination going on.
Breaking rocks in the hot sun would be so much more pleasant if we were hunting out sparkly specimens that look like dragon droppings!
Titanium Rainbow Quartz – If a stone is ‘enhanced’ by technology in a lab–it’s okay. If I enhance my product and sell it as real–it’s called larceny by fraud.
When I get out…I might even try my hand at a little fancy re-marketing. No longer will I be the chauffeur who slavishly drives the ‘Boss Baby’ wherever his heart desires. No! I will be the wild, carefree road warrior women envy and men want. (Hey, if we’re going to fantasize…)
I will hit the interstate for places unknown. I will decide my fate. Or, at least, I won’t default to Highway 196 and exit 41 as the corrections officer insists we take every time we do roadside clean up.
My parole hearing is coming up, so I baked the warden a mini devil’s food cake. I know…shameless pandering.
Go ahead and say it. You thought getting ‘Easy Baked’ in prison was a euphemism for something terrible that happens with a kitchen implement.
I even invited the corrections officer to supervise so he wouldn’t suspect anything.
It only took us two tries to figure which was the correct end to put the pans. What genius!
I have to say, they didn’t turn out so bad–for prison food.
They let us use the ‘good’ penitentiary china.
After slaving away for, like, forty minutes, we have a decent product, if I do say so myself.
The warden scarfs the thing down and I ask him, “So, wasn’t that fun?”
You wanna know what he said?
“No!”
There’s no respect in this joint. No loyalty. None.
That’s why I’m oughtta here tomorrow. I’m gonna Easy-Bake my way into my own ‘early release.’
This time, I won’t forget to put the file into the cake.
Asterisk Bedazzled Footnote:
*…to have a nervous breakdown.
**True. This happens. In a movie about a baby there is a reference to a shank. And I did laugh loud enough to be rolling on a floor except movie theater floors prohibit that kind of enthusiasm.
***Okay, that’s a stretch. Only Webster’s would call what I do on a daily basis, ‘having a life.’
__________You’ve read this far bonus:_____________
In case you wondered how it is I–an adult with a boy-child–have an Easy Bake Oven, here’s the story behind the best Christmas present I ever got.
This is a blog post I wrote before I ever became a blogger. Posted on The Green Study–who is to blame for giving me my first taste of fame and is responsible for my continued life of blogging crime:
It’s A Wonderful Easy-Baked Christmas
Justice never tasted so sweet!
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