Lucky Dog 1 Short Story – Anniversary 1 – Bittersweet once more

(Released in the 1st Anniversary collection version white and serialized on Tennenouji’s site in 2009 for Valentine’s Day.)

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Bittersweet once more

Clank … clank … clank … clankityclankityclank…

Some idiot somewhere’s playing cricket with an empty can and a hunk of wood.

The thought flits across my mind as I lay in the pitch-black darkness.  I figure it’s probably something I’d dreamt up, and I curl into a tighter ball under the threadbare blanket when…

 

Clank … clank…

 

My mind, still half-asleep, finally understands what the sound really is.

My body moves faster than my head.  Is it sad that I’ve been living in prisons for so long the habit’s been drilled into my body?

‘Leap before you think’ is often a very good thing, especially here in the joint.

 

“Yaaaaawn…  Shit, it’s freezing…”

I – Giancarlo, Prisoner No. 02856 – sit up in my iron plate bed.

It’s cold.  Really, really cold.  The blanket I’d been breathing into in my sleep’s been dusted with frost again.

Sigh, if I were a big boss in some Mafia somewhere, I’d be living the high life.  Breezing through life behind bars in 5-star hotel suites, behind bars and out.

There’d be a sofa and a double bed … and then some champagne…  Women…  Aagh, stop!  Stop!  Just thinking about it’s making me feel empty inside.

Oh right, I’d heard some rumors earlier about some big bossman-what’s-his-name getting thrown behind bars recently, too.

 

Clank …clank … clank…

 

Oh crap!  Shit!

The meaning behind the sound finally slogs its way through my brain, and I hoist myself up to stand in the middle of the lonely single.

I stand at attention in front of the iron bars, still clad in the prison stripes screaming bad fashion.

A second later, from somewhere in this building devoted solely to single cells…

Griiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!

…the ear-piercing but quiet morning bell echoes through the complex.

Not long passes before uniformed and baton’ed prison guards and jailors march past me and the rest of the single cells down the long hallway like a line of toy soldiers.

It’s the morning rounds.

The squad leader, skinny like a nematode, glances through my room with an irritating expression, gives me the evil eye … before moving on.

“Hah!  Better luck next tiiime!”

After he leaves, I stick my tongue out towards the empty hallway.

Coming around past the one-man cells at morning bell and monitoring the prisoners is a daily thing for the shitty hacks.  If they manage to catch someone still cooped up in bed, then that person’s in for a bad surprise.  Hard labor for a week and a special disciplinary menu for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

The fuckturd head honcho always seems to look forward to it and pushes the bell up on purpose before heading straight down for patrol.  The newbies are pretty much always screwed.

“Thanks, Mr. 305.”

The prisoner in 305, some guy named Barsaat, waves back to me.

The bastard has a watch smuggled from who-knows-where and who-knows-how hidden in his room.

Every morning, he gives his decrepit bed a rattle before the bell rings, which acts like an alarm clock for the rest of us.

Of course, he’s not doing it for free.  He gets extra bread every dinner.

There’s no such thing as “free” in the joint.  The only thing given without price is that trash disguised as food and the air we breathe.

 

Before I can head off to the cafeteria for breakfast, I have to idly wait behind the bars.

Some time passes before I start hearing bursts – the sound of bars clanking open somewhere down the hall and voices spitting out roll-call again and again like a depressing firework show.

And then, it’s my turn.

A young jailor appears across the bars, glances at me, looks around the room … and then beams me a grin with his pretty face.

“Giancarlo Bourbon del Monte.  No problems here, I trust?”

“Yeah, I’m being a good boy.”

The young jailor in front of me, an officer named Joshua, turns the keys before giving a sigh.

“Jesus, I can’t even enjoy my coffee in peace until I see your face every morning.  I’m begging you…”

“Oh … yeah, yeah.  Don’t worry, I’ll stay put for the next year ‘til the end of my term.”

“I’m counting on you.  If you escape again … it won’t just be my neck on the line but also Chief Brooks’s.  …Seriously, how do you…?”

Joshua opens the door before turning his eyes up to the building’s ceiling.

“Last I heard, Madison Penitentiary has the highest security in the state.  How in the world do you slip out from this place every single time…?  It’s not like you’re Houdini…”

“That’s a business secret.  Don’t worry!  There’s just a little more time ‘til my term’s over, right?  I wouldn’t risk it with a little breakout.  I’ll take my sweet time reflecting upon my crimes and devoting myself to becoming a better person.”

“I wonder about that.”

Joshua chuckles as he sighs again.

Though he’s clad in uniform and hat, he cuts a pretty handsome figure.  Plus, there’s no question he’d been born high in society and had gone to a well-to-do school.  His looks and the whole feel about him make it pretty obvious.

On top of that, Joshua’s a rarity.  He’s the only serious guy out of all the fucking guards.  I’ve never seen him bullying anyone, nor accept any bribes or trade bootleg goods on the sly…

…Is this a real-life example of “the luxury of the guys on top?”

“…I’m more wondering why the guy’s a guard in the first place…”

“What was that?”

“Mm, nope!  Didn’t say a thing.”

Joshua lets me out into the hallway.  All down the hall’s prisoners wearing the same stripes and the same dunderhead expression as me.

“Come on, it’s breakfast time.  I can finally get my coffee now.”

“Coffee, hm…?  Aah, how I miss it…  I don’t even remember what coffee tastes like now.”

“Just hold back for another year.  …Freedom is a great thing.”

Joshua probably doesn’t know this, but…

I, Giancarlo, am a pretty familiar face around this joint.

And of course, the free economy still exists, even in jail.

If I want, I could just strike a deal with some guard or another and get a steamy hot cup of coffee, no problem.  …Buuut that’s not something I could ever tell him.

I’m taken down to the cafeteria with the other prisoners.

I straddle my hands over the shoulders of the guy in front of me, and the guy behind does the same to me.

Like a retarded centipede (It’s actually the lockstep, a way prisoners are moved around), we march on.

◇                                           ◇

“No work today?  Guess holidays come in all shapes and sizes.”

“Yeah, and you can use the shower today, too.”

“…The shower?  You mean you want me to wash myself under water with nothing but the freezing February sky above me?  That’s pure torture.  You should bring it up to the interrogation committee.”

“Freedom is wonderful, isn’t it?”

Joshua gives me a wink as I return to my cell.  The door doesn’t shut.

There’s no work today.  It’s a valuable day that you can spend dawdling away on the grounds or in the library.

“And also, Joshua, don’t think you could send word up the ladder?  You know, have them do something – anything – about our food?  I don’t think what we have here is even fit for humans.”

“I don’t have the rank to do that.  …Sorry.”

“If they don’t fix the menu up, I’m breaking this joint.  …I’m just joking here.  Sigh…!  If only, you know…”

I pull out one of the rationed cigarettes.  I’m about to pull out a match, which is even more valuable than the smoke, when…

“Here.”

Joshua glances around, making sure no one’s around us, before lighting a shiny, sparkly silver Dunhill.  …This is actually against the rules, and Joshua’d also get in trouble for it if he’s caught.

“Grazie.”

I wonder why he’s always nice to me?  …It’s not like I’m a Mafia boss or anything.  What I am is actually a made man of the CR:5, a Mafioso from Daivan, but … I’m an ant in a colony.  One of a mountain of goodfellas, of disposable soldiers.

“Phew…  …Sigh, if only I could get something sweet in my stomach…!”

I blow out a smoke-filled sigh, one that welled up from the bottom of my gut.

There’s three things you can’t get in jail: booze, women, and sweets.

“Something sweet…?  Hmm, sorry, but it looks like you’ll have to just hold out for the year for that.”

“Come on, just ask the fat— I mean, just ask the good, wonderful, awesome Chief Brooks to hand out some chocolate drops after dinner every now and then?  Please?”

“I told you, I can’t.  …See you.  Please don’t cause any trouble.”

Joshua leaves with another guard passing by.

…That other guy’s Lloyd, I think.

Ooh, right, riiiight.  He’s the hardcore perv, rumored to have become a guard because he’s gay.  …That aside, he’s another Mr. Handsome from the upper end of town, just like Joshua…

“Sigh…”

I move my smoke, burned so low it’s about to singe my fingers, to the “tinder” hidden beneath my sheets.  The tinder’s made from scraps of my sheets and it’ll burn slowly like a fuse, keeping the fire lit for half a day.

If you’re careful and keep the spark alive, you can go without wasting a valuable match.

Of course, if a guard finds it, that’s more disciplinary action and hard labor for you.

“Sigh…  Ice cream sundae…  Soda float … dolce … fruits…  Chocolate…!!  Aagh, I want sugar so badly it’s giving me a headache…!”

…I want something.  Sooo badly.

I hide the tinder under the bed and head off for the exercise grounds.

◇                                           ◇

Pest control day’s today in the cells as well.

On the day the bugs huddled in our cells are to be smoked out and slaughtered, the prisoners sleeping in the single cells are all taken out and herded into a temporary common room for the night … but…

Of course, since it’s all without a slick of warning, another purpose behind the whole shenanigan’s to check for anything the prisoners’ve got smuggled away.

And of course, since I’d gotten the information beforehand, I’d managed to evacuate all my important goods to another place.

That night…

 

Bunk beds stacked together with iron pipes and plywood are lined up in neat ranks that extend into the darkness.

In a corner of the room, I wrap myself in the blanket, all the while praying to dear God that the guy above me doesn’t wet his bed at night.  …The snoring … the odor of stinky men…  No more!  No more!!

Long live single cells… … …Just as I’m nodding off…

“…!  …Ee…!!  …Guh…”

An unmistakable sound, irritating to the bones like the sound of tin cans dragging across glass.

“…N-No!  Nooo!  St-Stop!   G-Guh…!”

It’s a man’s voice.

A wail, trembling in terror, before it’s silenced with a rag to the mouth.  …I can tell what’s going on without even seeing.

(…Three…  The bed over…  Fuck…)

I hear the heaving breaths of the swarm of beasts seizing the unfortunate man in the dark.

…It’s nothing uncommon in the joint.

…Don’t know if it’s a lynch session or rape…  They’d probably waited for their chance, for when we’d all be taken out of the single person cells.

The other prisoners … aren’t moving a muscle.  Not a stir.  They keep on snoring.

No surprises there.  Can’t do a thing about it, even if it did actually have something to do with them.

The same goes for me.

Not sticking your neck out when you don’t need to is the secret to surviving in prisons. It was then a voice reached my ears, muffled by the blanket pulled over my head.

“…Can you believe it?  They say the pig’s some big honcho in the Mafia!  Hah, he’s ‘bout ready to wet himself!”

“It’s a good thing he’s so fucking weak!  Take this…!”

…Fuck, I can hear them.

The goons are amateurs, too.  You don’t make a peep when you’re attacking someone.

They’re probably … part of the huge crowd sent in all at once about two weeks ago.

That goes for both the assailants and the victim.

Plus … the Mafia, they say?  The guy wouldn’t happen to be a CR:5 friend, would he…?

I…

…weigh my choices for a whole five seconds before mentally cursing with a loud “Shit!”

 

“Ugh … guh!  G-Gwah…  Ee…!”

“Hey, porky.  Where’d your men run off to?”

“You fork over some cash and we’ll let you off the hook.  How’s that sound?”

There’s four attackers, all of them tough as bears.

At their feet’s a man, caged in tight by a blanket and curled in on himself like one of those fat, green, curly caterpillars.

The guys raise their hands, each holding a towel-wrapped soap, when…

“Hey, think you should leave off there.”

“?!  Hah?!”

The bastards … open their eyes wide and gape as they turn towards my voice.

Whoa there!  Each and every one of ‘em’s got a gruff, badass face.  No way they’re crumbs.

“Raise a ruckus and you’re bringing trouble to my plate here.  You wanna jerk off, go do it someplace else before tucking yourself in for the night.”

“Wh-What’d you say, you brat?!”

The boss-looking guy sticks his savage-looking face right up to mine.  …Fuck, his breath stinks.

“You fucker…  You one of his?!”

“You wanna get ripped apart before him, hmm?!”

I scratch my neck a few times before saying,

“…Is Mr. Curly Caterpillar there one of us CR:5?”

“The fuck?” is the expression written all over the bastards’ uncomprehending faces.  …Guess not.

“Well, whatever.  Just get back to bed—”

“Fucking kid!!  You try something and you’re—”

“…Hold your horses, newbie.  Or is this more your style…?”

I pull out a bundle of cigs I’ve got hidden in my pocket and hold them high, high over my head like Lady Liberty … for the other prisoners to see.

“Hey, everyone.  Whadya think, should we teach these cherry boys a lesson?  You’ll be rewarded, ‘f course.  One boy’ll get you one … naw, two sticks.  How ‘bout it?”

“Wh—  …G-G-G-G-Gwah?!”

The assailants’ eyes … reflect the sight of what looks like a horde of monsters rising from their graves…

…the sight of the other prisoners slowly getting up from their beds.

“F-Fuck!  W-We’ll get you back for this!”

The attackers back away … and the shadows in the dark creep back to their beds and turn back into regular ol’ prisoners.

“Hoo boy…”

Shit, what a pointless waste of energy.

I leave the bundle of smokes on the floor and head back to my be—  Oh, right.

“Hey, you.  You OK?”

“U-Uwuu…”

I pull the blanket from the curly caterpillar’ed man and pull the sock from his mouth.

“P-Pffwah!  Ah … haa…!  Uwuuu … uuu…”

“Oh stop crying, old man.  It’s all right now.  …For tonight, that is.”

The man’s got an unexpectedly firm body structure and the face of strong authority.  He’s gone a bit pale … but it’s obvious he’s no ordinary gangster.  His stocky body’s lined luxuriously with blubber.

And this very man … is lying on the floor, sobbing his eyes out.

“Agh, no two ways ‘bout it, I suppose?  Here…”

I lead the man back to his bed and give him one of the remaining cigarettes and matches, one of each.

“Don’t let anyone see you smoke it.  …Come on, stop crying.”

“…S-Sorry.  I’m sorry…”

Wonder where the accent’s from.  Most I know is he’s not a Daivan or New Yorker.

Or maybe … he’s the captain of a Mafia family somewhere?  …Oh well, whatever.

Aagh, totally stuck my neck into something completely pointless.  My bad.

The bundle of smokes I’d left on the ground behind me had disappeared without a trace.

◇                                           ◇

“About the day before yesterday…”

Just as Joshua’s escorting me to my room from the dining hall for the daily morning ritual, he suddenly speaks up.

“Huh?”

“…There was a commotion in the temporary common room, wasn’t there?”

Ah … cat’s out of the bag?

“I didn’t do a thing.  If I’m gonna get the special treatment…”

Did they find out about my cigarettes?  A bit of sweat slicks over my neck when Joshua in front of me says,

“…Sorry.  Thank you for your help…”

Joshua lowers his voice … and breathes a sigh mixed with relief and anxiety.

“Whuh?  Helped you … in what?  What’re you talking ‘bout?”

“That prisoner you’d saved…  It was bad.  Even I didn’t hear a word about it.”

“Uh huh … and what about, again?”

“…I can’t say it openly.  …I’ll just leave it at, he’s a big haul from Chicago they’d arrested.”

“Huh?  Whoa, hey, don’t tell me…”

“…And the big haul had his sentence set…  …He was moved from his luxurious 5-star hotel suite of a prison to our place … and so he’s lost all his allies, his bed, his money, and his connections.  Everything.  The enemies he’d made in his dark days are after his life.”

“Ooh, and that’s where I came in.  So, why’re you sending me a thank you then?”

“…If the man had been killed in our penitentiary, then … there would’ve been problems.  His sympathizers would’ve probably killed Chief Brooks, me, everyone else…”

“Wow.  Guess that makes me escaping the least of your worries.”

“…Yeah.  But, he’s already been transferred to another prison.  It’s a burden off my shoulders.”

“Congrats for that.  …Is it to Alcatraz?  I hear it’s pretty rough there.”

No surprise, I guess…  Once the Mafia’ve got you on their blacklist, you’re not the only one getting brutally slaughtered.  Your family, your lovers, your friends – all of them are goners.

“Anyways … I’m really asking for punishment for saying this to you, a prisoner, but … Lucky Dog.”

Joshua turns his face slightly downward, but his face is slightly dusted red, like he’s embarrassed.

“Gian, thanks.”

“Oh come off it.  It’s not like I did it for you.  If the porkster’d gotten hammed right there, all of us would’ve gotten in trouble, too.”

“…Haha, you’re not the ambitious type, are you?  Who knows, you might just be boss material.”

“Aw shucks, quit embarrassing me.  I’d rather you let me get some grub.”

“Oh … right.  … … …Sorry, uhm, here.  …Hide it until you can eat it in secret.”

“Eh?!”

I look down at what’s being pressed into my hands…

Whoa!!  I think I’d dreamt of these before…  Is this a real Hershey chocolate bar??!!

“J-Joshua?!”

“…You, you know … wanted something sweet, right?  So…”

“Can’t believe you’d fall to flattering me.  It’s not like you’re Lloyd.  What’s brought this on?”

“Th-That’s not…!  That’s not how it is!!  I just… … …Shit!  You keep complaining and that thing’s getting confiscated as smuggled goods and you’re going in for disciplinary action…!”

“Wow.  Uhm, testing.   Testing.  I know nothing.  I see nothing.”

But, by that time … Joshua, with a slightly embarrassed expression, has already taken a few steps back and is back to his usual self.

“Giancarlo!  Don’t try anything funny for another year!”

“Aye, aye.”

Gashump, and the bars are shut again.

I stand there with a dorky expression on my face for a full ten seconds … before sitting down on the urinal with my back to the hall and giving the chocolate bar a good long look.

“Whoooowhee.  Don’t know what holiday’s today, but…”

Today’s February … something.  What day was it again?  Oh well, who cares.

“…Mm… Yes, oh the sweeeeeetneeeeeeeeeeeess!!”

The sugar practically burns my brain.

Guess letting a guy give you some chocolate and turning your world all rosy pink isn’t so bad, after all.

 

Today is the best day of happiness happy can be.

 

…But I had no way of knowing…

…that just half a year later, all of the CR:5 captains’d get tossed into the Madison Penitentiary all at once………

END

(Tennenouji Web Site, 2009, Valentine’s Day)

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