Wednesday, November 09, 2011

Fuzzy Britches

It made me a little nervous to see that a letter from the department of corrections came through our mail slot yesterday. Even though I'm pretty sure the way they send you to jail isn't by mailing you a letter that says "please report to jail," and even though I've done nothing wrong that I can think of, it still freaked me out just a bit. It was a slight relief that my name wasn't on the envelope, just my street name and number, scrawled in pen. That's how I knew this thing probably went out to the whole street. Then I thought, Whoa, what if this is some announcement about a sex offender moving into my neighborhood.... Sandusky?! But then I remembered that those guys are supposed to actually go to your door. At least in the movies. So I opened it up, and, wouldn't ya know it, a neighbor of ours has applied for a job as a prison guard. And this guy from corrections is required to do a background check. Which apparently means walking around the dude's neighborhood and sliding copies of this letter into their mail slots so they can give him feedback. Of course!

Part 2: The Guy. Yeah, so the guy in question doesn't actually live on my street anymore. He moved away years ago. That's all I know. Either he's moving back, or he's using his mom's address and therefore lying on the application for some reason. Should I call up and tell them this? I don't wanna snitch on the guy, but this Penn State thing just made snitching go from uncool to cool. "Oh yeah, that guy? He'd make a great prison guard. He'd check for holes behind Rita Heyworth posters twice a week minimum. But he did lie about his address." Eh, I don't wanna do that. And the letter didn't say we had to call. I'll wait a few days and see if he actually moves back in before I make my next move. Stay tuned.


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Location: Rhode Island, United States