The Prowler and the Flowergirl

The Prowler, as has been documented on this page before, is so called because of his inclination to prowl about his cage, leaving no nook uninspected or cranny unvisited. He likes to creep up on unsuspecting inmates and take a good long look at their monitors, all in the name of ‘just doing his job’ and ensuring that the troops have their noses to the grindstone every second of the company’s time. I often think he must wear rubber-soled shoes since I am never able to hear him when he comes for his daily look-see at my monitor. To date he has caught me reading newspapers, chatting with friends, posting comments on fb, viewing a slideshow of the sexiest man in the world and doubtless blogging as well. And I usually get a frown and a stern disapproving look for my pains. But yesterday, by means of the simple act of agreeing to present flowers to a guest at a company function, I have been ejected from his hit list and am now sufficiently well entrenched in his good books that I even get a goofy smile in passing. Strange indeed are the ways of men.