mistconduct | Issue #61

[Standing in Slevin's cabin is Chris, looking around his inmate's room, skeptical and full of doubt.

There's a door there that wasn't there previously.

Giving a suspicious look to it - who's to say Slevin didn't just get maintenance to prank him? - Chris walks over and opens the door.

Well, would you look at that.]

[The camera shuts off. Fifteen minutes later, Chris is standing in the middle of Slevin's bathroom, a boombox at his feet. He points to the camera, then back at himself. The boombox starts blasting out the ultimate 90s, MC Hammer hit single, U Can't Touch This.

In Slevin's bathroom, Chris starts doing the hammer dance. ]

My-my-my-my music keeps me so hard makes me say oh my Lord
Thank you for blessing me with a mind to rhyme and two hype feet
That's good when you know you're down
A super dope homeboy from the Oaktown
And I'm known as such
And this is a beat - uh - you can't touch

[You know that terrible dance move when a person grabs one of their ankles from behind, puts their spare hand to the back of their neck and shuffles around in a wild spasm?

Yeah. Chris is doing that. Except he misjudges the pressure put on his leg, pops the prosthetic out of place, and falls over.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

'Course I'd have you, Powers. I'd have you allllll night long.

[He snorts, hard, because wow Chris. Really?]

You are so lucky this is on a private channel. The last thing I need is your wizard boyfriend with the emo kid haircut coming after me in a jealous rage because of some comical misunderstanding.

He's not a wizard. The fuck you think, he goes to Hogwarts or something?

Besides, Cassel and me have an open relationship. I'm allowed to be on the prowl for older gentlemen.

He has magic powers or something, doesn't he? Same thing.

That's very flattering to be sure but I advise you take it up in another corner. You and me are far better as friends.

Best friends forever.

You'd better not be expecting us to share one of those ridiculous matching necklaces.

Fuck that, I want matching tattoos.

Not into ink. Not my style. Assuming you could find a gun that even worked on me...

I need a tattoo.

Like a prison facial one. Or a tramp stamp.

Will it say "I make bad life choices", or are you leaving the image to speak for itself on that?

You're such an old man. Stop inhibiting my creative voice.

The same 'creative voice' that led to you doing a pratfall on your former inmate's bathroom floor?

Yeah. You're mommying me.

Am not. If I were, you'd be getting far more of an earful, rather than my advice and beleaguered amusement.

I'm gonna get a tattoo of your face.

And then you'll be yet another twenty-something with a flash tattoo of a fiery skull on you somewhere. Oh joy.

I'm having flashbacks to the shark discussion all over again.