writing doodle - the prisoner

As the guard walked the long hallway, he heard a low voice singing somewhat off key.  The tune was barely recognizable as Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.

"Quiet in there or I'll call the warden," the guard snapped.

What was the warden going to do about it? The question was implied; the prisoner seldom spoke.  It didn't really matter.  The jail currently held two inmates; one was known for good behavior, the other, not.

Truly, there wasn't much the warden could do. The prisoner was already in an isolated cell far away from the other inmate. Short of gagging inmate 8102852 the radio could be turned up and that was about it.

The inmate grabbed a stick and began running it across the bars. It was a gentle clatter at first, and the angrier he got, the louder the noise.

"Ok. I'll be back after I call the warden."

The phone was answered on the fourth ring.  "Gburek."

"We're having problems again."

"Are you following protocols?"

"Naturally." The guard had been well trained but had only been on the job about two weeks. "I've followed the checklist, but it doesn't seem to be doing much good. He's back in solitary."

"What did he do this time?"

"Hurt the old man.  Pushed him around and wouldn't let up. This time there was a bite and it was bad."

"Great."

"Yeah, well."

"I've got a meeting and then I'll handle it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. In the mean time, just go about the rest of your day."

The clatter from inside the cell eventually slowed and ceased altogether.  Finally the only thing other than the sound of the electric fan and the crickets was the sound of snoring.

~~~

Jane Gburek returned home after a long day.  All she wanted was a stiff drink, her dinner and a little peace.

She kissed her husband on the cheek and asked, "How was your day, dear?"

"Do you really want to know?"

They both knew she didn't really care, but he needed to vent and quickly. When the diatribe was over she said, "You know he didn't mean it. He's still young."

"Yes, but that's no excuse."

"Maybe not, but I'll see what I can do."  She wandered down the hall, flicked the light switch, and went to the blanket covered kennel in the far corner of the room. The latch lifted and slid back, opening the kennel.  Placing her hand into the kennel, she retrieved the young pup from his confinement and said, "You really have to quit beating up on Jasper.  He's an old dog and doesn't understand that you want to play."

She looked the dachshund in the eyes and scratched under his chin.

"You know I love you, but you won't survive to old age if this keeps up. He'll offer you to friends and then you'll have to break in a new family."

The pup angled his head and licked her hand.

"I think we've come to an agreement."

For today.  Tomorrow?  Maybe he'd howl along to Amazing Grace.