Spongebob Jailpants

Well everyone, its about that time again.

This time around I will share a bail bonding adventure. I was a bondsman for sometime during the pawnshop days, which led me to the fugitive recovery part of that job. Let me assure you, this was no Dogg the bounty hunter BS. Me and the guys carried guns. We wore bulletproof vests. We worked hand in hand with law enforcement officers (and on one occasion the US Marshals). Just so we are clear, there were no paintball guns harmed in this episode. Got it? Lets begin…

One bright sun filled day here in beautiful Northeast Georgia I was conducting business as usual at the shop of pawn. Pouring over my pawn contracts, my "bond" phone rang to life. It was a jailer at the Sheriffs office letting me know a man I had on bond had just been picked up. As you gather this is a no-no and breach of my bonding protocol. So what this means is I am to go and pick up said bad guy and deliver him back to the city PD where I first bonded him out. This relieved me of all obligation on the bond. I hopped in the bat-mobile and zoomed off to right the wrongs that my fair city has suffered.
Upon my arrival to the Sheriffs office, I checked my weapon, surrendered the proper documents and had a seat in the waiting room for processing. Sitting there, I could not place the mans face. You know, the guy I was there to get? Flipping through my mental Rolodex for his face, my cranial office work was interrupted by an individual who was highly upset. Through block walls traveled the most god-awful wailing and bashing of teeth I have yet to hear. Someone was screaming like their privates had just divorced their body and ran away. "OH THE PAIN! I HATE THIS *&^%%$@* PLACE!" over and over the banshee sang out. Assisting the racket from within was this melodic drumming..BOOM BOOM BOOM….BOOM BOOM BOOM.. Of course all I could picture was the Hulk smashing his head on the wall trying to kill a fly. Just as I entertaining myself with the thought of this tortured soul being my guy, the steel door shot open, banging the block wall behind it. A tall jailer, who was dressed like hour 15 of a 9 hour day, stepped through. He flashed me the look that a daycare attendant gives the parent of the last kid there? Kinda "haha! get this "thing" outa here" and almost apologetic at the same time? That's when I realized that this friggin incubus behind block wall, from which the chorus of the hounds of hell sprang from, was in fact my guy. The jailer motioned me to follow so I left the comfort of my chair and traveled that lonely corridor to the dreaded, and fabled..DETOX ROOM. My guide on this not so magic carpet ride led me past many matching cell doors. The halls, floor and doors were all shark grey. Finally, we arrived at the right door. Thanks white rabbit, lets tumble down the rabbit hole together. The door was canary yellow with a single word stenciled across the front that simply read "WELCOME". This word, on this door, in this place, had a certain creep factor... normally reserved for a bloody clown. As if this was not enough, I could now hear in full stereo what this sweetheart was actually howling to the moon about. Granted it still being belted out at a soothing 1000 decibels. "I'm gonna kill myself soon!Very soon if you don't get me out of here! @@$%^$$*&*^%$$^%". Well, you get it. This guy sounds like Helter Skelter had a baby with the Tasmanian devil. Then was bottled fed meth. Just beautiful lunacy. Now for the scary part. The jailer turns and grins at me as his key hits home in the lock on the door. His smile is as soothing as a colonoscopy with a weed eater. The door lurches open, flinging me headfirst into a pink nightmare. That's right. The walls, the floor and even the ceiling were all pink. Not to mention that little baby blue butterflies adorned this space also. This 6'x6' room was something only the mad hatter would approve of. So there amidst all this snugly chaos, was my guy. Head bleeding, snot faced, teary eyed mess of a man sitting Indian style in the floor. He was small in stature, but so is Ebola. Seeing his face for the first time I instantly recognized him. He had been in the shop several times. He even had the points card. Then the oddest thing occurred, he looked at me through those red eyes and ask in the most child like manner.."Are..are you taking me home?" Just like I rehearsed it, I said nothing. Pulling the handcuffs from my back pocket, I let them dangle in front of him driving the point home. Sometime you say it best..when you say nothing at all. In a most unexpected move he started squalling. I mean big ol crocodile tears. After telling him why I was there and where we were going, he kinda straightened up. He let me know the food and blankets are better at the city lockup. I was happy he was happy. After all that was business. So cuffing this Geronimo incarnate, we waddled back to the front to get my weapon and sign out. Getting out to the parking lot, he asked through drying tears.."Hey man which truck is yours?" making an obvious reference to the parking lot full of big pick-up trucks. Responding, I told him "Nope. We are here in this little black Scion. Yea the one with the car seat and Sponge Bob doll in the back." I suppose we both were not as tough as first thought?

Mr. Beggs 

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~Mika Beggs

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