A Half Day In The Life

Introducing Mondo Dweeb

The most disgusting inmate in the Universe

Mondo felt ungainly as he struggled to get his body mass out of his sleeping unit. The sheets were soaked through from the ever-present sweat that accompanied Mondo wherever he happened to go. Mondo raised his right arm to his left nostril to purge his nasal cavern of the low viscosity snot which had accumulated there. As he blew through his nose, he realized that once again he had made a mistake. "Left Arm, Left Nostril!" he thought as he struggled to wipe the quivering mass of green mucous from his right wrist onto his cellmate's sheets.

Mondo eagerly waited the call for breakfast, and when chow was called he traversed his way to the mess hall where he cautiously made his way to his usual with his tray of food. The other prisoners immediately left the table as Mondo approached. Mondo often wondered why they always left, then smugly admitted to himself that it must be out of respect. While eating, Mondo felt empty since everyone around him was in reality a total stranger and viewed Mondo as an outcast among societal outcasts. Mondo eyed the fly strip strategically positioned above his dining table. "Approximately 15% of the flies are alive on that strip," thought Mondo as he plucked one from its entrapment and greedily devoured it, to the horror of the guards.

Mondo completed his fuel intake procedures and once again made the long, dangerous trip back through the penal jungle to his cellblock. It was traditional during this walk for Mondo to flatulate with increasing frequency as he approached people. He had developed an amazing ability to modulate both the amplitude and frequency of his emissions so as to maximize the effects on the human population. As Mondo wheezed and bubbled his way toward his cell, he decided to alter his course of action and go to the bathroom in order to alleviate the all-consuming urge he had to gas his cellmate into submission. Mondo located his trouser decouplers and sat down recklessly on the sturdy bowl. Suddenly, all the other inmates fled the bathroom, and once again Mondo assumed that it was out of respect for his privacy. When he had finished his distasteful task, Mondo rumbled back to his cell to listen to some banal music and read material of questionable moral character.

The call for lunch was the next diversion worthy of mention in Mondo’s life. Upon hearing the call, he quickly wrung the sweat out of his clothes, and attempted to wipe away the ever-present line of drool running down his triple chin from the corner of his mouth. Once again the events of the morning were repeated as Mondo placed the entire fly strip between two slices of bread and offered it to a guard. Mondo issued several racially motivated comments to the patrons of adjacent tables as he concentrated on bothering the maximum number of inmates with a minimum of effort. In between heaping abuse upon these individuals incapable of offering any sort of respectable verbal defense, Mondo ate lunch.

After he finished, he clamored for the exit with dozens of other inmates. He raised his left hand to his right nostril and exhaled heavily through his nose. “Damn, Right Hand, Right Nostril!” thought Mondo as he cleverly used the crowding of the exit line to wipe away the stretchy mucous on the lunch patron directly ahead of him in the line. Mondo was amazed at the surface tension and elasticity of his snot as the sliggers stretched almost a foot from the unwitting victim’s back to Mondo’s left sleeve.

“So much for the first half of the day,” thought Mondo as he trundled back to his cellblock to play more insipid music and read another morally bankrupt publication.