This piece was written for the Six Sentence Challenge, with the prompt word of ‘guard’.
Initially, Lester thought it would be interesting to share a cell with Jake, an Australian, given that over the years he’d shared a toilet and washbasin with guys from almost all of the 50 States, but it wasn’t long before he realised his mistake.
Lester thought Jake was the kind of guy who could talk under wet cement and acted as though he believed that any time he closed his mouth he was going to die, so he kept talking just to be sure he was still alive.
Being six-foot six-inches and two axe handles across the shoulders and bearing biceps like beer barrels, Jake wasn’t the sort of guy you could tell to shut up and live to tell the story, and he hated to be ignored.
So day in and day out, Lester had to listen to Jake’s stories, descriptions of Australia’s lethal wildlife, journeys into his family tree, detailed explanations of how to rig up solutions to any mechanical problem imaginable in the Australian outback, and his bottomless pit of dreadful puns (e.g. are vampires bite-sexual?).
Finally, somewhere in the middle of a tale about Jake’s Uncle Bernie (who had six toes on his left foot and believed Aboriginal cave paintings were actually made by visiting aliens) carving a new piston out of hardwood while being attacked by drop bears, Lester snapped and began frothing at the mouth while screaming through the bars ‘Guard!’
As Lester was led away, Jake smiled and muttered to himself ‘Works every time’, assumed the lotus position and returned to his meditations on the mysteries of the universe, including whether if you went to a restaurant called Karma, would it serve just desserts?
Special bonus for Jenne and ceayr. If I could be another nationality, I’d be a Scot.