The Jailhouse Blues Ch. 03

It was no contest. But how could it be, in the circumstances? When the deck was so stacked against us. When prison officers Billie Jo and Bella Donna held all of the cards -- and Ross and me were their pair of jokers?

My tragically fated cellmate was trying to put a brave face on it now. As he always did.

But I knew Ross well enough by now, to know that he was already struggling. That he was becoming very upset, at the dangerous direction this unlooked for and unwanted confrontation with his 'mistress' was taking.

All of the tell-tale signs were showing. I could tell he was becoming traumatised. Visibly reeling, as prison officer Billie Jo continued to impose upon him her dreadful overbearing personality and greatly disturbing presence.

It was increasingly obvious to me that my cellmate was in very real trouble now. Obvious, that he was fighting a losing battle. Another losing battle. It was yet another re-run of a battle he had fought before, with prison officer Billie Jo. The battle he always lost. The battle he could never win.

It was increasingly obvious to me that Ross's studied attitude of humbleness, respectfulness, and reverence towards prison officer Billie Jo was becoming ever more difficult to maintain. Ever more difficult, to sustain the facade. Ever more difficult, to perform the charade. Under the prolonged strain of such diabolical duress, Ross's carefully composed mask of sincerity was visibly slipping.

Helplessly, I could only stand by and watch, as I recognised the succession of danger signs that told me my sensitive cell mate's paper-thin carapace was cracking.

Ross just couldn't handle it. He just couldn't take it. He was just too thin-skinned. He just didn't have it in him, to withstand such sustained, monstrous pressure.

Ross was definitely losing it, I thought, sadly.

No question: he was about to give way, fold, and cave in. About to collapse, from prison officer Billie Jo's remorseless mental pummelling. Lips trembling, cheeks burning, eyes shining, Ross was right on the verge of losing it -- right on the verge of blubbing.

Yes -- there was no doubt about it: Ross was visibly quailing now, before prison officer Billie Jo. Visibly reeling, from the relentless, vicious and vindictive onslaught of his cruel and sadistic subjugator.

Visibly reeling, from the cutting verbal lashings of the even meaner than usual, getting-out-of-the-wrong-side-of-the-bed prison officer Billie Jo.

Visibly reeling, from the hurtful haranguing of his venomous-tongued 'mistress'.

Visibly reeling, from his wicked tormentress' withering, belittling put-down.

Visibly reeling, from prison officer Billie Jo's browbeating.

"I ... I'm very sorry, M-Miss B-Billie Jo," Ross apologised respectfully, his bottom lip trembling uncontrollably, his face almost maroon.

"Just look at him, BJ," sneered prison officer Bella Donna. "Have you ever seen anyone so gutless? So wimpy? So unmanly? I thought it was his teeth you'd removed, BJ -- not his backbone! The miserable, pathetic wretch!"

At witnessing Ross's diabolical plight, I could feel my eyes forming their own sympathetic tears.

"And what's the matter with you -- Jaws?" snapped the never-missing-a-thing prison officer Bella Donna, scornfully, now turning her baleful attention to me.

"Nothing, Miss Bella Donna," I said respectfully.

"If you want to cry -- cry along with Gummy -- I'll soon give you something to cry about!" she told me. "Do you hear me -- crybaby?"

"Yes, Miss Bella Donna," I said respectfully. "I hear you."

I may have been about to leak a sympathetic tear. But Ross was starting to come apart at the seams -- un-stitched, by prison officer Billie Jo.

"Y-you are ... right, of course, Miss Billie Jo," Ross blubbed, failing miserably to hold it together. "As ... as always. I -- I shouldn't interfere, in another prisoner's ... business. I ... I just thought, that, too much ... self-relief, would eventually—"

"You just thought -- Gummy?" snapped prison officer Billie Jo with sneering contempt. "Well don't! Look where your irrational thinking has got you in the past! Have you learned nothing? Have you learned nothing, this past year, despite having had the benefit of being taken under my wing? Despite my taking a special interest in you, because you are a slow learner? Despite my Ball-Busting you, to put a thinking-cap on your head? Ball-Busting you, to expunge irrational thoughts from your mind? Ball-Busting you, in your own best interests? To help you to see the errors of your ways? To help you to see reason? To get you to think straight -- think coherently and logically? Have you forgotten all of the lessons of my personal-tutor teachings? All of the lessons of my one-to-one instruction, pursuant to the concept of propriety, where females are concerned? Has all of my hard work in your behalf been to no avail, then? All for nothing? Oh, prisoner Chapman, please tell me I'm wrong!" wailed prison officer Billie Jo in mock despair.

"Ha ha ha ha!" laughed prison officer Bella Donna delightedly. "You are too much, BJ! Ha ha ha ha! Really -- you are a scream!"

"My decision to apply to the Governor for permission to Ball-Bust you, wasn't taken lightly," prison officer Billie Jo now told Ross, with every appearance of seriousness. "Only, after agonising through a prolonged period of painful, difficult, stressful soul-searching, did I regretfully decide upon the ultimate chastisement. I was being cruel to be kind, prisoner Chapman. It hurt me, a lot more than it hurt you."

"Ha ha ha ha!" laughed prison officer Bella Donna. In her doubled-over-at-the-waist, tickled-pink merriment, she squealed, "Oh -- BJ!"

Prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo were having fun. But Ross was under no illusions as to the seriousness of his situation. Prison officers Bella Donna and Billie Jo were two laughing tigresses. When they stopped laughing ...

"Miss Billie Jo, I -- I did learn! I have learned! And I -- I haven't forgotten your ... teachings. And, thank you, Miss Billie Jo, for ... for taking me under your wing. And for ... for Ball-Busting some sense into me."

"Well, Gummy ... by the looks of things, I'm thinking I might have to Ball-Bust you again. To refresh your memory. Because you seem to be relapsing! All of the evidence is there, pointing that way. All of the give-away, tell-tale signs -- pointing to relapse!"

"No! No, Miss Billie Jo. I'm not relapsing. I—"

"Irrational thoughts are returning to your mind -- that's what I call relapsing! Forgetting the errors of your ways -- that's what I call relapsing! Sticking your nose in, where it doesn't belong -- that's what I call relapsing! Oh -- and talking out of turn, about us prison officers! That's definitely what I call relapsing!"

"No! I'm not relapsing! I'm not, Miss Billie Jo! I -- I wasn't ... I mean, I'm not—"

"Ha ha ha ha!" guffawed prison officer Bella Donna, convulsing in fresh gales of helpless laughter and tickled-pink giggling. "BJ ... Really!"

Pointing to the two tubular framed, dark-grey canvas folding chairs leaning against the cell's wall, her uncontrollable mirth barely allowing her to get the words out, prison officer Bella Donna said, "Jaws! Pass me ... ha ha ha! Pass me ... one of those folding chairs ... I need to sit down! Ha ha ha ha!"

"Yes, Miss Bella Donna," I said respectfully, obediently doing her bidding.

"These are all early-warning signs, prisoner Chapman," continued prison officer Billie Jo. "Warning signs, that, at great expense to the male UK taxpayer I have been highly trained to detect, diagnose, act upon -- and rectify. Irrefutable warning signs, that—"

"Miss Billie Jo! No! I—"

"Irrefutable warning signs, that cannot be ignored. Dangerous warning signs, that cannot go unchecked. These are all red-alert warning signs, prisoner Chapman, that you are no longer—"

"No, Miss Billie Jo! I—"

"— listening to us! Warning signs, prisoner Chapman, that you have become inattentive! Warning signs, that you are no longer absorbing the messages of our daily teachings!"

"Absolutely right, BJ!" agreed prison officer Bella Donna from where she was seated now, in the tubular framed, dark-grey canvas folding chair I'd just passed to her through the cell's bars. "He hasn't listened to a single word you've said, BJ -- he can't have!"

"I'm -- I'm sorry, Miss Billie Jo," said Ross respectfully. "I ... I am listening."

"Listening, perhaps -- but not heeding! Not taking on board! Not absorbing! Not taking to heart!"

"Absolutely right!" agreed prison officer Bella Donna again. "It's obvious!"

"Because I am seeing too many troubling warning signs, prisoner Chapman," prison officer Billie Jo informed Ross ominously.

"So am I, BJ," said prison officer Bella Donna. "So am I."

"Warning signs, that you do not, in your heart of hearts, subscribe to our doctrine. Warning signs, that you reject the fundamental principles of our female-friendly ideology. Warning signs, that, far from being an adherent, not only do you not cherish, but you actually pooh pooh our Utopian values. In short: red-alert warning signs, prisoner Chapman, that you are not taking to heart the concept of propriety, where females are concerned."

"Miss Billie Jo, I do! I mean, I—"

"These are all little, give-away signs, prisoner Chapman. Little, tell-tale signs, that you are no longer seeing reason. Small, but reliable indicators, that your thinking-cap is slipping. Incontestable snippets of proof, that you are no longer thinking straight -- thinking coherently and logically. Indisputable evidence, that irrational thoughts are once again loose on your mindscape, and roaming at will along your cerebral corridors. In short: incontrovertible proof -- of relapse!"

Prison officer Bella Donna, now sitting more comfortably with her right leg crossed over her left leg, and her dangling pale-blue, thin-rubber soled flip flop repeatedly and irritatingly slap slap slap slapping against the bottom of her bare heel, said, "Yes, BJ. That's my take on it, too." (Slap slap slap slap ...)

"In fact, (slap slap slap slap ...) it's as clear and obvious a case of resisting and rejecting our female-friendly doctrinal teachings as I've seen. And for so blatantly renouncing our precious ideology; our concept of propriety, where females are concerned, if I was you, BJ, I'd give Gummy another good Ball-Bust on the Wheel of Chastisement. Increased punishment, too, for a second offence. (Slap slap slap slap ...) I'm sure Governor Monroe would authorise your request. No problem -- especially with my first-hand witness backup testimony. (Slap slap slap slap ...) And if you do apply to the Governor to have Gummy Ball-Busted, I certainly hope she selects me as one of the members of the caning-party -- I'll give his bare bottom one hell of a caning!" (Slap slap slap slap ...)

"Well ..." said prison officer Billie Jo, with every appearance of reluctant consideration. "I suppose it's worth thinking about."

"I sense your misgivings, BJ. (Slap slap slap slap ...) And I quite appreciate your dilemma," said prison officer Bella Donna, with every appearance of genuine colleague-to-colleague interdependent collaboration and empathetic understanding.

"Our decisions to Ball-Bust prisoners are never taken lightly. (Slap slap slap slap ...) And only ever, as a last resort, when all of the less drastic therapeutic treatment options have been duly exhausted. (Slap slap slap slap ...) Only, is it after the most emotionally-draining bout of fair-minded mental wrestling; of scales-of-justice balancing, that we reluctantly decide upon awarding a prisoner the ultimate chastisement. And why? It is as you said, BJ: it hurts us, a lot more than it hurts them." (Slap slap slap slap ...)

Well ... you little liar! I thought. A last resort?

"But this is a clear-cut case, BJ. As clear as they come. (Slap slap slap slap ...) There is no cause for inward struggle. Not in this instance. (Slap slap slap slap ...) So don't go beating yourself up again, BJ -- over him! Don't go exhausting yourself again, with thinking it through. Don't go stressing yourself out again, with any more prolonged periods of painful, difficult soul-searching. Running away at the mouth, the way he was -- Gummy absolutely deserves it!" (Slap slap slap slap ...)

"No!" cried Ross desperately. "No, Miss Billie Jo! Please!"

In dire dread of being Ball-Busted on the dreaded Wheel of Chastisement a second time by prison officer Billie Jo (which would also entail "one hell of a caning" by the attendant twelve-prison-officer caning-party), Ross went to the bars of our cell, and got beseechingly to his knees at the feet of his heinous antagonist.

Kneeling reverently, and staring down respectfully at the tops of prison officer Billie Jo's olive-complexioned feet, Ross pleaded, "No! No, Miss Billie Jo! No! Please! I'm not relapsing! I -- I thought it was good advice! I -- I was only trying to be helpful. I ... I only meant, to—"

"Shut up!" prison officer Billie Jo yelled down at my reverently kneeling cellmate. "Just shut up -- Gummy!" she yelled contemptuously. "There's only so much of your miserable whining I can take! Just shut up, you pathetic, snivelling little toerag! Just shut up!"

As Ross stared down respectfully and silently at prison officer Billie Jo's feet, I saw that his body was shaking, wracked by sobs caused by prison officer Billie Jo's cruel browbeating.

"Just look at him! Just listen to him, BJ!" (Slap slap slap slap ...) "I've never seen such a wimp!" (Slap slap slap slap ...)

Prison officer Billie Jo then slipped her right foot from her pale-blue, thin-rubber soled flip flop. Raising her right foot to Ross's chin, with the tops of her toes she tilted back his compliant, unresisting head, obliging him to look up through the cell's bars at her achingly beautiful, but cruel and implacable face. Terrified, as though beholding the doom laden gaze of the snake-haired Medusa, fearfully he averted his eyes from hers.

The embodiment of belligerence, prison officer Billie Jo looked down on my wickedly subjugated cellmate. With brutal harshness, she snapped, "Gummy! Look at me!"

And so now, things had just gotten much worse: As prison officer Billie Jo held his red and blotchy, tear-streaked face in place with the tops of her toes, Ross had no choice, but to behold her dreadful, malevolent gaze. Had no option, but to look up into her dark, maltentful eyes. Was forced, to stare up at the merciless, incompassionate windows of her soul.

"You, prisoner Chapman, are your own worst enemy. You are the only prisoner to have said 'No' to me twice. Which in and of itself is an irrefutable measure of your unparalleled obtuseness ... but not only that.

"No, not only that ... Because it is also a starkly revealing indicator, to us, as to your incorrigible nature. An invaluable insight, into your inherent, leopard-can't-change-its-spots psyche."

"Exactly right, BJ." (Slap slap slap slap ...) "We've got his number." (Slap slap slap slap ...)

"An extremely reliable sign, prisoner Chapman, revealing your inborn resistant, rejectful, die-hard rebelliousness. The sheer resentfulness, that is responsible for triggering your repeated acts of disrespect, disobedience and noncompliance. And responsible also, for your evident non-absorption of our daily instructional female-friendly teachings and tutorials."

"Yes, BJ, that's exactly what I think," agreed prison officer Bella Donna. "I'm with you on that. (Slap slap slap slap ...) To think, that he hasn't taken on board a single word we've ever said!" (Slap slap slap slap ...)

"In and of itself, the very fact of your saying 'No' to me twice, prisoner Chapman, provides us with a high degree of enlightenment," prison officer Billie Jo informed Ross.

"It enlightens us, as to your prevailing off-the-rails mental condition. It enlightens us, as to your real, behind-the-mask attitude, towards your female-friendly indoctrinal programming. It throws light: bright, revealing, forensic light -- upon your carefully hidden and cunningly disguised persona. In short: it enlightens us, prisoner Chapman, that you do not believe in, have no time for, and reject with all of your heart -- the concept of propriety, where females are concerned."

"That's right -- Gummy!" agreed prison officer Bella Donna. "You are a fraud! But we can see right through you!" (Slap slap slap slap ...)

"You are out of tune, out of sorts -- out of order!" prison officer Billie Jo told Ross. "And I am telling you now, prisoner Chapman: I am going to fix you!

"Using any and all necessary correctional-chastisement methods and tools, I will determinedly and tirelessly troubleshoot, diagnose, and effect the necessary modifications to your off-kilter thought processing apparatus.

"I shall adjust your wayward synaptic settings, prisoner Chapman. I shall realign all of your receptors -- retune them to what I, personally deem to be perfect working order. I shall re-calibrate you. Customise you, as it were. In short: I will change your spots.

"And then I shall determinedly and tirelessly go on, keeping your customised thought-processing apparatus functioning in perfect working order. Keeping your cerebral engine well-oiled, as it were. Just a bit of remedial tweaking and tinkering, every now and then, should do it. To keep you running smoothly. To keep your mental motor in tip-top, trouble free condition. Trouble free, that is -- to me! Call it routine maintenance ...

"So, prisoner Chapman. In future you'd be wise to leave the thinking to me -- I'll do your thinking for you. I think you'll find it a lot less problematical. And a lot safer, too: you might get Ball-Busted a bit less often."

Ross's face had now gone a deeper, even more furious shade of red ... as if he was about to react. As if he was about to rebel, against his diabolical treatment.

But, as he was obliged to continue looking up into the seemingly all-seeing and all-knowing eyes of his cruel, taunting, goading nemesis -- the seemingly all-seeing and all-knowing eyes, of his dominant, all-powerful 'mistress' -- if Ross was harbouring ideas of his own as to who was his worst enemy, he was very wisely keeping them to himself.

"Of -- of course. I'm very sorry, Miss Billie Jo. I -- I wasn't thinking ... I mean, I—"

"In fact -- Gummy! -- for your latest transgression, if it wasn't for the reason that I want to kick you in the balls from time to time; not just for the sheer, delicious pleasure and satisfaction it gives me, but also because it is the easiest way of ensuring the uninterrupted continuance of your total, servile obedience to me, and your bowed, extreme reverence, I would have you castrated -- surgically. Do you hear me -- Gummy? Did you hear what I just said?"

Almost instantly, all of the furious colour had drained out of Ross's face. He'd gone from beetroot red to snow white, in less time than it took a Levels patrolling jailhouse blue to say: 'Assume the position for Foot Service!'.

"That's right -- Gummy! But first, I'd let officer Victoria ruin you -- ball-kick you to ruination. But she wouldn't make short work of you. Oh, no. She'd take her own, sweet time. And then I'd remove what was left, after she'd finished with you ... the pulverised remains. And then your balls would be gone, yes. But still, there would always be a reminding echo of your ruinous Ball-Bust, that will never completely fade away.

"Officer Victoria wants to ruin prisoner Lightwood. That's not in my gift; his balls are in the hands of officer Bella Donna. But you are! And as his cellmate you would be the nearest and next-best thing ...

"So you'd best keep that in mind, prisoner Chapman, the next time you are in danger of running away at the mouth! Because in just the year or so she's been here, officer Victoria has already ruined more than her fair share of the 'One-in-a-hundreds'!"