Behind Bars

In the Brig Playing Chess

Click Go the Shears. Click Go the Shears. Click Go the Shears. Down falls my hair. Down falls my hair. Down falls my hair.

What an ugly haircut these mongrels have given me. I've only been in this stunning institution for a few hours, and already they have given me a make-over. Quite hospitable, don't you think? Yes, yes, hospitable hospitality in a hospital. How original.

All I can see is blue. Blue uniforms. Blue walls. Even the blasted urinals are blue. It's like being under the water, swimming around aimlessly. And aimlessly is right. These lowlife men who call themselves criminals are simply wandering around with nowhere to go. Not that the dogs would let them out, anyway.

The dogs. Mangy little pups they are. Thinking they have the right to push me around, thinking that they have the capacity to stuff me into a symbol of conformity and throw me away like a rag doll. They do not know how easy it would be. How easy it would be for me to grab that 'harmless' pillow and smother them. How easy it would be to jut out a leg and bring them down. I, of course, would never do anything like that. I'm a much more cunning sort of person, I am.

There seems to be another prisoner in this place that thinks so as well. He has been following me around wherever I go, stalking my every move. I must say, my comrades, that it is quite discomforting to have a gorilla of a man breathing down your neck for hours on end.

Though I suppose that you all have never had to deal with these sorts of things. It must be hard to relate to someone with whom you have no real connection with. I must try to imagine your position, but for the life of me I cannot bring myself to care. It is your choice, dearies, to listen to me or not. It is your choice alone. But I am fairly sure that a knife to the throat would convince you, would it not?

Your horrified faces make me laugh; something that I have not done in quite a while. So scared, you look. So terrified that I might lay a hand on your precious flesh. Trust me, my toys; you are not worth my time and effort in death. It is much too much work to clean up and try and explain to the mutts down the hall why I committed yet another crime. Much too much energy, I dare say, energy that I do not have at this precise moment.

Funny how I say that, then turn around and punch the man who has been following me around the complex. It could not be helped though; the imbecile was beginning to grate on my nerves. People should learn quickly not to do that, for I am a rather sensitive man.

How shocking, a person as strong-willed and hardened as I admitting to sensitivity in plain context. A real ‘man’ has no fear of emotions, in fact; I embrace them all with equal opportunities. Emotions can fuel the soul into creating unimaginably beautiful actions and reactions. Truly amazing how the mind works, hm?

Yes. It certainly is astounding how the human brain functions. Especially when the dogs somehow find it amusing to place me in a bedroom with the same fellow whom I had harmed. I honestly cannot understand how this provides them with laughs, but I’ll do my best to entertain them. Besides, isn’t that what I’m here for? Entertainment? A jest to while away the hours with? Whatever the case, I am now to spend the rest of my nights trapped in a concrete hell with a brute of a man whose only syllables consist of grunts and monotones. Oh, how I wish for intelligent life in this place.

I wonder…I wonder if the mutts know how to play chess. I have a wonderful little board I could set up for them. Yes, it would be a rather lovely game. The white dogs against the blackened prisoners; The good versus the evil; the one with control pulling his pawn’s strings like a puppet master on display; a marionette’s final dance.

I wonder…if they would let me play.