Jailbreak: Betrayal

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Jailbreak: Betrayal by P. H. Madore set in Capsa Shortly after he'd finished masturbating on a presidential Sunday, Cell Z received a bundle of letters to distribute. He sorted them, found his, re-sorted them, struck a rationed match on a hidden flint, and incinerated them all. Cell Y said to the mail carrier in passing, "You are an obvious waste of life." "As opposed to what?" "An accidental one!" said Cell X. Monday was Cell A's turn to receive the bundle again. He occupied the majority of his sentence with a tennis ball. Being the only literate prisoner, Cell A shouted the contents to the rest. "I hate you! Love, your wife!" he copyright © 2009 P. H. Madore

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shouted. "M, that was you." "I'm coming to get you!" he screamed for Cell C. "Just like your cousin said last time, C. Pay him back." He orated some more. !ere was never any variation. !e writers were either hateful or loving. "I'm too tired to read anymore!" A month passed. !e mail carrier grew a beard. He had blinking and staring problems. His shoes clacked. As he pulled his heavy sack of mail down the hallway, he sang his own tune. "!ere's no need to fall in love...remain calm." Cell M threw a piece of chiseled cement in the mail carrier's direction, missing him, and told him to find a cockroach quick. In retaliation the mail carrier stood in front of Cell M and ate his mail. "You suck at singing," said Cell N from copyright © 2009 P. H. Madore

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behind. "And we don't appreciate it." "You owe me thirty bucks, you bastard," Cell F insisted. !e mail carrier blushed and didn't respond to the accusation. Defiant, he sat in the middle of the isle and opened a newspaper, flaunting his freedom. A week more passed during which the mail carrier and Cells A through C held hushed discussions. Cell Z's curiosity was piqued to the point that he cashed in a favor with his mate, an overweight rodent by the name of Kemp, accrued over the course of nineteen consecutive Black Jack victories. On the eighteenth game the two bet their lives. Kemp ground his better judgement into mush and played the hand. Cell Z grinned madly and Kemp scurried only to find the same grin on copyright © 2009 P. H. Madore

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the face of every other creature present so he was forced to barter for Cell Z's protection. Cell Z settled for a self-replenishing bank of favors and any loose change Kemp could scrounge up. Kemp snuck through the morning toward Cell A, where stood the mail carrier going between the last three on the line, delivering whispered repetitions. "Fuck these unloyal bastards. C," the mail carrier whispered. "Strength in numbers. B." "!ere will be a rat. A." "It's sitting in your cell right now. C." "It doesn't speak fluent English. A." Kemp was was proud of mastering over half the alphabet with no formal education. He considered himself not unlike Master Splinter. "Good point. A." "Anyways. B." copyright © 2009 P. H. Madore

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"How much? C." "Yeah. How much? B." "All of it, of course. A." !e mail carrier took a break. Cell A raised his fist in anger. "!at'll work. MC." "Wait! Who? C." Cell D was roused. "Yeah! B." "Seriously. A." "Me, of course, half-wits," the mail carrier scolded. Kemp was more confused than he'd ever been. He focused the sum of his rodent will on remembering as much as possible. A new plan was brewed in his devious little brain even as he scurried back to Cell Z. "Pretty much mail won't come to thee, Z," said Kemp. "!ese are plotting for theft of mail in help with mail--" copyright © 2009 P. H. Madore

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Cell Z slapped Kemp and said, "Don't lie to me!" "What this lying is?" "To tell me wrong things." "!ese are left that I am saying," Kemp insisted. "!ey talk quiet and I run forth to back hearing them evils. I hear them good. One say I does not understand but am I still nosey. He are lying!" Kemp squeaked a notch as anger took over his miniscule body. "Also thee B ask me to move in with him. I are wise to his. I not answer. I pretend one say I does not understand is left. Paper boy human, he is going to win from sin of others. He are wrong two times. I think to bite him in owing thee Z but I do not because I have lost what it is..." Kemp looked around perturbed and confused at having forgotten the term. "Plague?" Cell Z asked. "Left, left! Plague," Kemp shrieked. "I copyright © 2009 P. H. Madore

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bite him without, my father tells me as baby small Kemp, and I will not live to be big strong Kemp I am. I--" "Shut up." Kemp obeyed. "Anyways," said Cell Z, "You done good. I saved some crust from my sandwich." Cell Z then took a nap and two days passed. !e warden was out of town and the night guard was in slumber when the match was struck. Cell Z had paid thirty dollars for it to Cell F. Cell C tore his roll of toilet paper directly in half and lit one half. He kicked the igniting mass into the inner corner of his cell and began to add other things: stock-piled mail, a blueorange jumpsuit, bedsheets. He took the unlit portion of toilet paper, touched a small part of it hurriedly to the fire, and passed it to the copyright © 2009 P. H. Madore

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waiting soaked hands of Cell B next door. Cell B had been in the early stages of planning and once his own bonfire became steady he propelled it sliding across the hall to the waiting arms of Cell A. All three were wearing makeshift masks made of pantyhose from a weirdo inmate who'd committed suicide via ingesting his own bile in mass quantities. He'd bartered the pantyhose and other female articles for cigarettes, claiming authenticity. Cell D, who'd not been in on the plan, nevertheless had a match of his own and proceeded to do as he'd just witnessed done. Smoke detectors whined banshee alarm and soon authorities arrived debating evacuation or cremation. !e night guard said the job was too important. He didn't need a lawsuit from the inevitable survivor. Someone call the fire department! He was the first dead when Cell B, one-time professional wrestlecopyright © 2009 P. H. Madore

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maniac, came out of his cage like a raging canary. He then procured the coveted keychain and unlocked the cells of his partners. !ey all in turn worked together at freeing the rest of the block. When they reached Cell Z, though chaos was everywhere around them and the time for escape had come, the trio hesitated. !ey had heard things about this one. He'd once modeled himself after Hannibal Lecter and spoke to a rat. "Fuck it, sissies," said Cell B. "He's no different!" "Right," said C, unleashing Cell Z. !e giant came out slowly, gratefully. "Which is from Cell B?" asked Cell Z. "!at's me. Mark." Cell Z punched Mark in the face, picked him up, and threw him into the A and C, bowling a strike. !en he stepped on each of copyright © 2009 P. H. Madore

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their heads like an ancient winemaker and said, "Fucking idiots. Kemp told me."

copyright © 2009 P. H. Madore