Ronald Cummings, who was arrested last month (along with braindead ex-wife Misty Croslin) on prescription drug-trafficking charges, has taken the initiative to boldly show mankind that jail has taught him what’s truly important in life. The ignorant, incarcerated hick and father of missing 5-year-old Haleigh Cummings, shared his revised list of priorities with grandmother Annette Sykes (and the world) during a recent mind-blowing jailhouse phone call. What could possibly bump his “beloved” missing little girl seemingly off the list altogether, you ask? His dirty boxer shorts.
While he avoided mentioning Haleigh’s name for the duration of the phone call, Ron managed to focus a bizarre amount of attention on the jail’s laundry schedule in general, and his filthy drawers in particular. When asked how he was fairing behind bars, Cummings referred to his possible lifelong encagement as “a setback,” then rambled profusely in his native redneck dialect about his glorious jailhouse bathing priveleges. “I get to shower every night, from what I understand. I don`t know. I showered this morning and tonight, so I`m feeling great,” said the man whose precious daughter was allegedly snatched from his home by a stranger in the wee hours of the morning less than a year ago. “But don`t get me wrong. I had to put the same dirty drawers and shorts back on,” he went on to clarify, as bewildered listeners worldwide made a mental note to JUST SAY NO to drugs. Cummings and his fried-over-easy brain then informed mankind, “I only had them on since this morning, so at 9:00 o`clock or — let me see. My band says at 8:17 is when I got out of the shower and they put the band on me. So anyways, I`ve been in, what — 12 hours I`ve been in these boxers.”
Apparently unable to concentrate on anything but his underwear, Ronald continued to fixate on the inconvenient setup of the prison’s laundry schedule. “The laundry man only comes on Tuesdays and Fridays,” he complained, “So I can — I have to wear these until Monday or until — yes, until Monday night, and then put the clean ones on and then throw the dirty ones down to him. And then I can wear them — I can wear the — anyways, you know what I mean,” he trailed off, giving the impression his attention had drifted to another topic; perhaps his missing child?
No such luck.
Instead he demonstrated both his math skills (which are surprisingly superior to Misty’s), and his sound strategy for dealing with the challenging underwear dilemna. “I got two pairs of boxers, so — but right now, they ain`t really dirty so I just went ahead and put them back on instead of putting my clean ones on and then having two dirty pair.”
Reassured that the filthy drawers situation was somewhat under control, Sykes asked Ron if he needed anything in jail. “Well, let me see. What do I need? What do I need? What do I need,” he pondered while trying to dust the cobwebs from the corners of his drug-infested brain tissue. His missing daughter, maybe? After giving the matter careful consideration, Ron gave birth to an idea. “Oh, they said I could have my chains,” he exclaimed, only to be told by Sykes that the jail would not allow it. Dismayed and undeterred, Cummings insisted, “Well, the damn guard in here said I can!” When Sykes reiterated that the jail prohibited prisoners from wearing chains, Ron’s brain (which could find shade in the shadow of a pea) steered the discussion back to his newfound bathing routine, and illustrated yet again why drugs are bad. “Damnit… I don`t think I washed the damn soap from one of my arms!”
In conclusion, say the following along with me while envisioning Ron Cummings redressing his soapy body in skidmarked underpants: JUST SAY NO TO DRUGS…