"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen..."
Darren hated the sound of that woman's voice. Not just because she represented his captors, but because she insisted on doing this whole spiel at 7 bloody AM! Who the hell wanted to be awake at such an hour?
"controlled temperature is 50°f today..."
Great. Cold again. Lovely.
"...any and all who would like to appeal for visitation from outside..."
Visitation? Ha! There had been limited contact with family over the time of his incarceration. The emails from his mother and father that had been almost daily when he first came to this place had trickled to bi-monthly updates, and his sisters only spammed him with game requests on Facebook. He still was able to chat with C.J., but that whas if and when his older brother was online, which was infrequent with work. Besides, he was sure there was no money for any kind of travel. The Braves did honor his contract when he was taken away, but a rookie scale contract was nothing, and his parents could have easily salted the money away on frivolous purchases. The gator-skin boots his father bought when he gave his parents some of his signing bonus money came to mind.
"...and its provisions to you. Being a proud member of our community will only mean rewards and privileges in future."
Boy, the doctor's just a fucking laugh riot today! What's next? Be good and you might get outta here?
The news about the upcoming sporting events came as rare welcome news. Bout time they put something together so I can whoop all these poor buggers. Ain't nobody outrunning me, not from what I've been seeing. Not Saeed, not Joaquin, not Karen, James, none of 'em!
"...complaints about the new internet and television issues, our maintenance staff are making adjustments as we speak..."
Bout god damn time! Lord knows how bad my Twitter's taken a god damn beating. Bad enough these bastards wrecked my damn count, now they been wrecking the little access I got. At it's peak, when Darren was making waves during his September call-up, his follower tally skyrocketed 38,000. Due to the hassle of getting moved, as well as the higher-ups now carefully monitoring everything one of the 140 characters that he typed after a series of profanity laced statuses shortly upon entry, he was now down to 3,500 at last check.
"Have a good and productive day, ladies and gentleman. This is Doctor Julia Strauss speaking on behalf of the PRACC."
Good. Now prack the hell off. With the announcements completed, Darren turned over in his bed, turning his back on the window and the artificial sunlight to try and grab a couple more hours of shut-eye.
Darren hated the sound of that woman's voice. Not just because she represented his captors, but because she insisted on doing this whole spiel at 7 bloody AM! Who the hell wanted to be awake at such an hour?
"controlled temperature is 50°f today..."
Great. Cold again. Lovely.
"...any and all who would like to appeal for visitation from outside..."
Visitation? Ha! There had been limited contact with family over the time of his incarceration. The emails from his mother and father that had been almost daily when he first came to this place had trickled to bi-monthly updates, and his sisters only spammed him with game requests on Facebook. He still was able to chat with C.J., but that whas if and when his older brother was online, which was infrequent with work. Besides, he was sure there was no money for any kind of travel. The Braves did honor his contract when he was taken away, but a rookie scale contract was nothing, and his parents could have easily salted the money away on frivolous purchases. The gator-skin boots his father bought when he gave his parents some of his signing bonus money came to mind.
"...and its provisions to you. Being a proud member of our community will only mean rewards and privileges in future."
Boy, the doctor's just a fucking laugh riot today! What's next? Be good and you might get outta here?
The news about the upcoming sporting events came as rare welcome news. Bout time they put something together so I can whoop all these poor buggers. Ain't nobody outrunning me, not from what I've been seeing. Not Saeed, not Joaquin, not Karen, James, none of 'em!
"...complaints about the new internet and television issues, our maintenance staff are making adjustments as we speak..."
Bout god damn time! Lord knows how bad my Twitter's taken a god damn beating. Bad enough these bastards wrecked my damn count, now they been wrecking the little access I got. At it's peak, when Darren was making waves during his September call-up, his follower tally skyrocketed 38,000. Due to the hassle of getting moved, as well as the higher-ups now carefully monitoring everything one of the 140 characters that he typed after a series of profanity laced statuses shortly upon entry, he was now down to 3,500 at last check.
"Have a good and productive day, ladies and gentleman. This is Doctor Julia Strauss speaking on behalf of the PRACC."
Good. Now prack the hell off. With the announcements completed, Darren turned over in his bed, turning his back on the window and the artificial sunlight to try and grab a couple more hours of shut-eye.