We Came, We Saw, We Kicked Some Ass, We Wanna Go Home...

The ACA Audit is every C.O.'s worst nightmare. Usually, The Headquarters Audit defines whether or not the prison meet the standards of the ACA (American Correctional Association) and where we need to tighten up.

Wednesday Night was going to be hell. They stuck me with the trainee who had to be told two or three times before something clicked, I was in the only Dorm on the compound that exhibited a problem with the inmates wanting to act up during the count and what's worse...it was right at shift change when the auditor came in.

Great...what the fuck else could go wrong? I thought. This man would know that our professional exteriors were only a front. He would know that the real Louisiana DOC was a guise for the next nostalgic Police Academy rip-off. We'd all be fired. I'd come to peace with this fate, this having been my first audit in the 5 years of employment out there...and I thought it was going to be a fucking nightmare. My neophyte partner wasn't going to be much help, I thought, I'd have to kill him at once. If not he'd surely have these ACA Swine on us, hunting us like dogs. I'd have to cut off his head and bury him somewhere. It goes without saying that he wasn't ready for this, having only been on his third day on the job.

Great Odin, did I say that? Or merely think it?

Were they watching us?

Did they hear me?

Finally, halfway during shift change the auditor spoke.

"What is this you're doing?" he asked.

"We're making rounds with the shift we relieve," I answered, "We even do this with the shift that relieves us. Checking for discrepancies and the like. This way, we're not left hanging out to dry with some backdoor open or something of the kind."

"Hmm..." he said. I didn't like that. I don't like when people signify that they're thinking on an action which I or my partner am performing. Usually, it signifies that this is something he's never seen and something is wrong. But what exactly?

"Why not just hand over the keys and call it a day?" he asked.

"Because some swine had left with the keys before," I told him, "they were in a hurry to get home and it caused a mess. Now we have to do this before anyone goes home. It ensures everyone is where they're supposed to be and we have our equipment."

"Hmmm..." he said again.

I wanted out of there. I wanted to go home and immerse myself in music again, get lost in the thrill of the show. Scream to the far corners of the earth as my voice ripped through the electron stream into a harsh vibrational pattern out of someone's speakers.

"For fuck's sake, man!" I thought, "Get a grip on yourself!"

I was running on two hours of sleep and the Stackers I'd taken earlier were now beginning to take me into their terrible grip. Soon I'd be in some type of sweat, I would shake and there would be the fear that some fat backwoods midget was hiding in a toilet with a tactical nuke bullet in a slingshot waiting to kill me with radioactivity and then realizing to his own horror that I wouldn't die....I was too wound up.

"Sit down!" the bodiless voice announced, "Sit the fuck down! You'll be straight in a few minutes! And Breathe you bastard!"

We finished relieving the shift and called for count. They didn't make a sound. The bastards never made so much as a sneeze in the dorm. This wasn't right....this was about the opportunity they took to lose control and make us look terrible. They didn't though. Like choirboys in church, they sat in silence. I explained the count procedure as my partner did it. I explained why they weren't allowed in the TV area while we counted. I explained the entire nightly count procedure and a basic outline of what my partner and I would do that night....save for the usual idiocy.

"Hmmm..." he said, again.

"GODDAMMIT YOU SWINE I'LL KILL YOU!" a voice in my head screamed.

"NO!" I thought, "Calm down!"

The vibrations in the dorm were becoming nasty, but why? Was something wrong? What comes next?

The surge of caffiene through my system caused me to think irrationally and my thought patterns were becoming more and more erratic. If he wanted to fuck with the Emporer, then I would have to fight internally to keep him at bay. I'd eventually lose that fight until my partner finished counting them all and I began to turn it in. As he talked to my partner I fell into a deep abyss of despair.

"Oh Gods!" I thought, "find me some hip waders and a machinegun or I'll never get out of this mess alive!"

"Ok, guys, thanks!" he said, "Keep it up, this was great!"

With that, he walked away.

Hours later the captain came in, scratching his head.

"What happened in here with the auditor?" he asked

We told him everything in as much detail as my caffiene addled mind could recall.

"Whatever happened back here," he said, "he was impressed. He specifically named you two as doing one of the most smooth and professional shift changes he's ever seen. He's going to make that type of shift change Official Policy at the prison where he works."

My look was that of mindless stupefaction. I'm sure my partner's was as well. If it wasn't...it fucking should have been.

As the captain left, I looked at my partner.

"Did that just happen?" I said.

We're used to being told where it is we're fucking up. Very rarely in our line of work are we ever met with a "Good Job" type of quote. This was something to which I was unaccustomed and was sure I had dreamt. The nightmare I'd been afraid of never happened.

I still looked for that goddamned midget.