The Jailhouse Blues Ch. 01

"And ... what did you say ... to prison officer Billie Jo?"

"I said no ... Again."

"What!"

"I said, 'We've been through all of this, Miss Billie Jo. Remember? Remember, Miss Billie Jo, about the line I won't cross?"

"My god! So ... what happened?"

"Prison officer Billie Jo, happened. That's what."

"And ...?" I said, leaning forward eagerly.

"Prison officer Billie Jo actually looked glad, this time. She said: 'So, prisoner Chapman, you actually dare to defy me again. But, believe me: this will be the last time. There is a cure, for prisoners' defiance - a sure cure - and I shall soon be administering it to you'. That's what she said, Lenny. And she was really scaring me now; what, with her voice, and the way she was looking at me, and all.

"She told me, 'I'm going to the Governor's office now. Not only, to recommend that a further one-month extension be added on to your sentence, for non-compliance - that goes without saying. But also, to get a Special Order signed: for the Wheel of Chastisement.

"This time, prisoner Chapman, I'm really going to teach you: This time, I'm having your balls - I'm going to bust them, for you. Bust them! That is what happens, to recalcitrant prisoners. Do you hear me, prisoner Chapman? I'm going to bust your balls! On the Wheel of Chastisement, as you come around, and around, and around to me, with your legs restrained wide open, I'm going to kick them, and kick them, and kick them - and, right in front of as many prison officers, who can be spared to come and participate in your chastisement with their canes. And I promise you, prisoner Chapman: those earlier punishments, that I administered to you? The cane? The dentist's chair? They will be as nothing, in comparison. As nothing! And, when you are crying yourself to sleep tonight, remember: you asked for it.' That's what she said, Lenny. That she was having my balls. That she was going to bust them ... And she did."

I was totally incredulous.

"What? You can't be serious?" I said, shocked, and profoundly appalled. "Prison officer Billie Jo, she ... she actually kicked your balls, on this ... Wheel of Chastisement thing? And, right in front of an audience of prison officers?"

Nodding miserably, Ross said, "Prison officer Billie Jo got the Governor to sign a Special Order for the Ball-Bust - that's what they call that particular method of chastisement: a Ball-Bust. Prison officer Billie Jo and prison officer Bella Donna - Poison Ivy! - handcuffed me between them, and they escorted me down to the basement, to the gymnasium. That's where they do it, see? The Ball-Bust. That's where they use their damn contraption - the Wheel of Chastisement. Prison officer Billie Jo, she had me restrained to it: the gathered prison officers secured my wrists to an overhead bar, pulled my shorts off, and strapped my legs wide apart. And then, just like she said she would, she ... she administered my so-called chastisement. As I came around, and around, and around to her, she ..."

"Ross, mate, I don't know what to say. I—"

"If I live to be a hundred, I'll never forget it."

"Ross, mate, I—"

"And, do you know what, Lenny? The moral of the story? Prison officer Billie Jo was right: Since the Ball-Bust, I have never said 'No', to her. Not once. Just like she said, the Wheel of Chastisement is, a sure cure for defiance. And I don't want her - or any other prison officer, for that matter - busting my balls ever again.

"Trust me, Lenny: you don't want to ever have to go through that. It's beyond imagining ... All the prison officers, taking their turns to cane you, as and when your bare buttocks come around to them, again, and again, and again. And they are all yelling, and cheering, and laughing ... while you suffer. Oh, while you suffer! While you get kicked in the balls, again, and again, and again ..."

"Ross, what—"

"That's enough, Lenny! Enough ... for now, anyway. I can't talk about it any more, now."

"Okay," I said.

"Besides, they'll be back any minute - prison officers Billie Jo and Bella Donna - with this Bernard Broadbent geezer. And if I was you, Lenny, I wouldn't give them any hassle!"

"I—"

We suddenly heard the slap slap slap slapping of prison officers' flip flops, slapping on the bottoms of their bare heels as they walked along. And as those highly annoying (and, increasingly ominous) sounds got nearer and louder, we also heard a man's peevishly complaining voice.

"This is outrageous - a travesty of justice! Thrown in jail - sent to this dump - just because I didn't hold a door open for a woman! And, for heaven's sake, I hadn't even realised she was coming into the store behind me!" the man yelled, in his post-'induction' outrage, fresh from the security checkpoint building, and prison officers Natalie and Melanie's little Welcome to Greystone Prison prep-talk.

"Shut it, prisoner Broadbent!" snapped prison officer Billie Jo. "Or I'll take my cane to you here and now - before I've even put you in your cell! And, as to why you are here, perhaps in future you'll remember to take your social responsibilities more seriously."

Prison officer Bella Donna added stonily, "You wouldn't be here, prisoner Broadbent, if you knew how to behave towards ladies; if you possessed the slightest modicum of societal decorum. And that's why we are here: to teach you. The prison officers here will educate you. Instruct you, on a daily basis. Relentlessly drum into you, a sense of propriety where females are concerned. And my advice to you, prisoner Broadbent, is don't make things any worse for yourself. You've already earned yourself another month's imprisonment, for one act of non-compliance."

"What? You're kidding! Just because I wouldn't walk three paces behind you, looking at your feet?"

"Yes, prisoner Broadbent," replied prison officer Bella Donna. "Got it in one."

"They're back!" Ross exclaimed. "They're coming! They're here! They're—"

"Ross, calm down, mate, calm down. You're going to give yourself a—"

"Listen to me, Lenny! Remember what I said! It's crucial! Vital! Keep your head down, keep your nose clean, and just do what you're told - whatever, you are told - for your three-months' sentence. And then get the hell out of here - and never look back! That's my advice."

"I—"

"Trust me, Lenny! If you value your freedom, trust me: Don't get on the wrong side of them - of any of the prison officers. It's just not worth it! Listen, Lenny! Trust me!!"

If only I'd listened to Ross's advice.

*

Dear reader,

this is where it all started to go wrong for me. Terribly wrong ...

Ross had been right. Prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo didn't take very long in getting back - a round-trip of fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.

Using the same foot-to-buttock method of propulsion they'd used in shoving me into cell 16, prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo likewise ignominiously installed prisoner Broadbent next door, in cell 17. "Hey! What the hell!" he complained indignantly as he careered headlong down the steeply sloped two-foot deep ramp that led into the cell ... apparently, he hadn't noticed the steeply sloped entrance, either.

Having duly incarcerated the still vociferously complaining prisoner Broadbent, slamming the barred cell door after him with a loud, resounding clang, prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo looked through the bars of cell 16, at Ross and me.

Prison officer Billie Jo wasn't slow in getting down to business. "Prisoner Chapman!" she barked authoritatively. "Foot Service! Assume the position!"

Upon his hearing prison officer Billie Jo's commanding, authoritative voice, Ross's open and engaging manner of a moment ago abruptly vanished - was transformed in an instant, into one of a most dismal, defeated and downtrodden demeanour.

He didn't need telling twice ("Since the Ball-Bust, I have never said 'No', to her"). "Yes, Miss Billie Jo," he said respectfully— no, with pitiful, pathetic obsequiousness.

I was taken aback, somewhat. This was a side to my cellmate that I hadn't seen yet.

I watched in rapt fascination, as Ross obediently got up off his lower bunk, and in meek compliance trudged dejectedly over to the bars of our cell where prison officer Billie Jo was standing.

Imperiously, she stood there: In obvious anticipation of her imminent Prisoners' Foot Service pleasures; and arrogant, in the smug certainty of her dreadful bidding being obediently carried out to the letter.

As I intently watched Ross's actions, it was now that I saw just what those eight torpedo-tube like holes in the wall under the cell's bars were for.

Ross grabbed hold of the cell's bars, and with an ease of movement resultant of much practice he fully inserted his legs into two of the floor-level circular-shaped apertures, thus bringing his torso and head right up to the cell's bars: his chest, on a level with the Wing walkway's dark-grey painted smooth-concrete floor; his head, at calf level of prison officer Billie Jo's legs.

Thus, by so lowering himself to a sitting position on the floor, right where prison officer Billie Jo was standing in expectation of his Foot Service, my cellmate had demonstrated to me the method ("the ... ins and outs") by which prisoners 'assumed the position'.

And now, as Ross held on to the cell's bars, just above and about a foot to either side of his head, prison officer Billie Jo promptly snapped closed around his wrists the two inset bracelets, securing him in place.

I could hardly believe what I was seeing. (Later, I would learn the reason why there were eight of these floor-level holes: for when there were prisoner-overcrowding issues, and consequently four prisoners were made to temporarily share these abysmal little cells; the two surplus prisoners, obliged to sleep on pallet-like mattresses on the floor).

Now that Ross had 'assumed the position', prison officer Billie Jo looked down on him, oozing wickedness.

Her bearing was greatly intimidating, emanating an almost palpable air of menace - was fear-inspiring. The suggestion of her dark nature was easily discernible in her voice, too. Mostly, though, the true essence of her character showed through in her eyes: the ever-present threat of devilry. Truly, they were the windows of her soul.

Totally secure in her absolute power over the hapless and helpless prisoner at her feet, prison officer Billie Jo's eyes shone maniacally. Gleamed, with gleeful, malevolent triumph at having such deliciously gratifying control at her command.

Winding Ross up, she said, "Look at you ... just look at you. You are a pathetic, miserable excuse for a man, prisoner Chapman ... Aren't you?"

"Yes, Miss Billie Jo, I am," replied Ross weakly.

"You are just like all the rest of the male rubbish in here. Male detritus, who don't know how to behave towards ladies ... Aren't you?"

"Yes, Miss Billie Jo, I am. But, thanks to you, Miss Billie Jo, and to the other prison officers here, like ... like Miss Bella Donna, I'm ... I'm learning."

Prison officer Bella Donna piped up, saying sharply, "And, so you should be, prisoner Chapman! After all, officer Billie Jo has given you a couple of good lessons, hasn't she, to set you on the right path? You were erring, and she showed you the errors of your ways, didn't she?"

"Yes, Miss Bella Donna, she did. I was erring. And, Miss Billie Jo, she ... straightened me out."

"Well, thank officer Billie Jo, then! Show her your appreciation - you miserable, misbegotten ingrate! Do you think, prisoner Chapman, that us prison officers are here just for the fun of it?"

"Heh heh heh," chuckled prison officer Billie Jo diabolically. "Heaven forfend, Bel!"

Wretchedly, Ross looked up at prison officer Billie Jo's gleeful, gloating face and croaked, "Miss Billie Jo, thank you. I'm grateful, to you. For having all of my teeth pulled out, when I threatened to bite your foot. And, for ... for busting my balls, for my repeated non-compliance. I ... I deserved it. Thank you, Miss Billie Jo. For showing me the errors of my ways, and setting me on the right path."

I could hardly believe what I was hearing.

Apparently satisfied with Ross's showing of his abject gratitude to her, and with his grovelling expressions of approval for her having had all of his teeth taken out, and for busting his balls, prison officer Billie Jo abruptly turned her back on him.

Slipping her right foot from its prison-officer issue, pale blue, thin-rubber soled flip flop she raised her foot behind her until the sole of her bare, olive-complexioned foot was just a couple of inches from Ross's wretched face.

"Prisoner Chapman. Look at the sole of my foot, and study. Study well. Observe carefully, where your tongue-cleaning work is most cut-out for you. Where there is the most need, for you to concentrate your efforts."

"Yes, Miss Billie Jo. I will. I'll look carefully, Miss Billie Jo," said Ross pathetically.

In the fashion that Ross had described to me earlier, as she talked down to him I saw prison officer Billie Jo wiggling and scrunching and splaying her toes, right under his nose, as though to facilitate the release of her in-between-the-toes aroma. But if Ross was getting a whiff of the wafting unpleasant foot scent that he'd mentioned earlier with such distaste, he certainly wasn't daring to flinch from its olfactory offensiveness now.

"Prisoner Chapman. My feet are dirty. They are grimy, and all sweaty, too. Especially the balls of my feet, which have gotten all grubby - and the bottoms of my heels, too; see, there ... the grimy black tidemark, all around the edge? And, do you know how my feet have gotten like that, prisoner Chapman?"

In a monotone voice almost totally devoid of animation, and his utter defeat and capitulation absolutely manifest in his bowed and cowed bearing, Ross miserably replied, "Yes, Miss Billie Jo. I am ashamed to say that I do. It's because you've been working so very hard all day. Patrolling the Levels, in your flip flops. Making sure the scumbags in the cells are all behaving themselves. Keeping an eye on them - and keeping the male vermin where they belong, while they learn how to conduct themselves with due correctness in the presence of females. It's a thankless job. But someone has to do it. And it's all because of the likes of me, Miss Billie Jo. Uncivilised riffraff like me: uncouth, ignorant morons, who have no notion of nicety, no idea of deference, no inkling of societal decorum, and who wholly lack a sense of propriety, where females are concerned. There should be no need for you to be here, Miss Billie Jo. But, because of disrespectful deadbeats like me, who don't know how to behave towards ladies, there is. To teach us: the slime-ball, dregs-of-the-earth, scummy lowlifes in this place, the errors of our ways, and to put us on the right path. And ... and that is how you end up with dirty feet every day, Miss Billie Jo."

"You are correct, prisoner Chapman. Your interpretation of the situation is one hundred per cent accurate. And, given that to be the case, is it not only right and proper, and perfectly fitting, that prisoners are made to clean up after themselves, as it were?"

"Yes, Miss Billie Jo, it is. It is only right and proper, Miss Billie Jo, that prisoners clean up their own mess, as it were."

"First, prisoner Chapman, before you give the soles of my feet a very thorough tongue-cleaning, I'm going to stand here, at the bars of your cell, and enjoy a well-earned cigarette. And, while I do so, I'm going to use your face as a footrest. So I'll expect you to keep your face perfectly still for me. Further more, prisoner Chapman, as I inhale the vapour from my e-cigarette, I'll expect you to be doing some inhaling of your own. And I shall expect to feel your sniffing, as, with your mouth firmly closed, you inhale the scent from under and in between my toes."

"Yes, Miss Billie Jo. I'll be sure to do that," said the slavishly compliant Ross, with unspeakable dejection.

Suddenly addressing me, prison officer Bella Donna snapped, "Prisoner Lightwood! You will respectfully stand, in the presence of prison officers! Stand up! Get up off that seat, fold it, and pass it through the bars to me. I want to sit down, while I enjoy watching prisoner Chapman servicing the soles of officer Billy Jo's dirty feet ... Oh, and prisoner Lightwood? As soon as we're finished here, I'll be reporting you to the Governor: For failing to offer me a seat, when you could perfectly well see that I was standing around out here. So you can consider yourself awarded another month, added on to your original three-month sentence."

Rendered temporarily speechless and immobile, it was only from my shocked surprise and incredulous outrage that I didn't instantly comply with prison officer Bella Donna's order, as I otherwise would have done ("and that's when lots of prisoners get caught out, Lenny. So you'll have to be especially wary of that: be continually on your guard, ever vigilant against falling into the prison officers' traps.") ... Prison officer Bella Donna was going to report me to the Governor, and have another month added on to my three-month sentence! And for what? Hell! Now I was going to be stuck in here for four months!

But unfortunately, my cellmate misread the situation.

Fearing that my apparent hesitancy indicated that I was about to be non-compliant, in his concern for me Ross momentarily turned his head away from his close and careful observation of the dirty sole of prison officer Billie Jo's right foot, to nod at me, indicating that I should do as bid by prison officer Bella Donna.

As if she'd been expecting this, prison officer Billie Jo looked over her shoulder and down at Ross just in time to catch him out in his disastrous slip.

Immediately, prison officer Billie Jo gleefully seized her golden, gift-wrapped, handed-to-her-on-a-plate opportunity; cruel cadences of celebratory, smug and gloating, vindictive triumph the foremost 'qualities' in her voice.

"Prisoner Chapman!" she shrilled. "How dare you? I wasn't aware, that we required your say-so! I wasn't aware, that we needed to wait for your go-ahead! How dare you, make such an insolent presumption? The Governor shall hear of this! That you consider yourself so important, that prison officers should wait for your signal of approval - to another prisoner! Well, prisoner Chapman, you can consider something else: Consider yourself awarded another month, tagged on to your tariff."

"Yes, Miss Billie Jo," replied Ross, in a voice that was half croak, half sob. "And ... thank you, Miss Billie Jo. I ... I deserve it."

"Quite right, BJ," agreed prison officer Bella Donna cattily. "He absolutely deserves it. Absolutely, he does. And, well done, BJ ... you have managed to 'retain' prisoner Chapman, after all."

As Ross obediently resumed his close study and careful observation of prison officer Billie Jo's dirty, grimy, sweat-smudged right sole ("Observe carefully, where your tongue-cleaning work is most cut-out for you"), still positioned just a couple of inches from his wretched face, even from where I was (still) sitting I could see the glistening wetness of spilled tears on the cheeks of his face. The grief-stricken shaking of his body, was also painfully obvious.

I couldn't bear to see it.

I couldn't bear to watch, such a piteous, heartrending, convulsive outpouring of irrepressible grief.

I shrank, from observing the sudden, copious flowing of Ross's tears - the tears, of his unimaginably devastating disappointment. ("I've given her no further reason for complaint, since then - not a one!").

I quailed, at beholding the uncontrollable shuddering of my cellmate's body - the sad sign, of his wretched, unbearable despair. ("And I'm nearly there now, Lenny - I'm nearly there! I've only got one more week to survive, and then I'm out of here!").