Wanton Thursdays

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Lynda and the others arrived late today. Some guy was caught drink driving near Calhan Street, so the cops pulled everyone over to make sure the roads were clear of drunks. Lynda was discovered with some alcohol floating in her system, probably from a night out with her other Harlot friends. She explained to the cops that she was a youth worker at Soulburn Juvenile Detention Centre and couldn’t risk missing her weekly classes. I’m sure the mention of the name was enough to make them flinch! We have a mutual hate for one another; they’ve caused the boys here just as much trouble as we have them. They must have thought it punishment enough because they let her off scotch free. She’s also rather flirtatious so that could have played a part.

 The older women with purer intentions than her often make the mistake of sending her to try and engage the boys who’ve got no interest in their ”life ready programs” and turn your life around bulls**t. Just like my father and forefathers, in a cage, I’ll die. Nothing they can change about that. 

The boys have cracked the code and now pretend to be disengaged to attract Lynda’s attention. Ms Stanley, the coordinator lady, tries, but God bless her there’s a reason she’s never been married. She tries too hard to play mum to a bunch of boys with mommy issues. It was her idea to employ someone closer to our age so we can have a better understanding of one another, but I don’t think she’s realized what she’s done. She chose Lynda, but we chose to keep her. 

Today she trots over in a tight black singlet and a pink pleated skirt. Her lipstick is a shade lighter than yesterday and her eyeliner slightly smudged at the corners. She’s every guy’s cheerleader fantasy. She knows exactly what she’s doing. She attempts to connect all 4 of our tables to make a square around the whiteboard and without missing a beat some of the guys rush to her aid and each takes a table. Had it been any of the other ladies they’d all remain lounging on their seat, pens behind ears. Once the circle was constructed, she made sure to have everyone’s attention before writing on the board in bold letters ‘M Y F U T U R E’. It was met with grunts and booing. It’s the same thing over and over and over. Most of us are headed to Soulburn State Jail anyway, so there’s no point in planting seeds of hope in us. With the backlash, she decides to win back our approval by accidently dropping her black marker, then picking it up, slowly taking her time. Lace underwear? very tasteful. Most of the guys went quiet, while some made soft groans, and others left the room to tend to certain needs. We knew not to make a scene when she did stuff like this, otherwise the guards and other workers got suspicious. We can’t risk losing our Thursday treat. Nowadays, it seems like Thursdays are the only thing we look forward to. 

 

These stories were written in our Factory Feedback program, which was created with, and generously supported by, the Dusseldorp Forum.