CRT, that is. As you have probably already figured out, I won't be in again today. Thanks to a wonderful grab bag of pills I was able to sleep for most of the night, unfortunately I still woke up feeling like I'd been harpooned. Bern is trying to find me a massage therapist to see today. Sadly it will not be Madame Cleo's. I don't know, they look legitamate. They even advertise in the Yellow Pages.
Tell the Warden that me and my harpoon will be in tomorrow. I may look like Tony Montoya at the end of Scarface with a mountain of pills in front of me (instead of coke), but I'll be there.
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Come on, sailor. I love you long time.