***** Foreward *****

In prison again. Fuck!!! This shit sucked donkey balls. The prison was no fun at all, in case you were wondering. My room was boring AF and there are actually quite a few bullies. Let’s just say that’s the last time I commit first degree manslaughter. Except… First degree manslaughter is defined as “killing without premeditation,” so how could I know if I’d do it again?

My story? Well, why don’t I start with how I got there…

***** Chapter 1 – Thunderstorms *****

The prison bus pulled up to the gate, which creaked open ominously. Thunder cracked in the distance, or maybe it was my imagination. The forecast was, after all, partly cloudy – No T-storms predicted. But that was the forecast for Ponderosa, where I’d spent my last night as a free man. This prison was in Fort Little, a whole two towns over – The weather here could be moderately different.

I stepped out of the vehicle and didn’t notice what the weather was like. I was too focused on that damn creaky gate. I looked searchingly into the eyes of the prison guards lining the boulevard. Not a friendly face to be found, and certainly none with the initiative to oil the gates. It figured that I, of all people, would wind up in the prison with the lazy guards. This was not off to a good start.

A lithe, wiry man with an awesome Ziggy Marley bucket hat and curly auburn hair came up to each of us and brusquely attached a ball and chain to our ankles. 

“…And the award for most draconian prison goes to…” I thought to myself snarkily. I didn’t dare utter the words though. Not yet.

The man sauntered off, presumably to practice the steel drums, or whatever Marley fan prison guards typically do on warm, cloying Sunday evenings.

We shuffled our way into the prison gates, where another equally lithe man in a Phish bucket hat unlocked our ankles, then sauntered off. I didn’t even want to think about what his plans for the rest of the day were.

We began to march across the prison grounds towards the building. I reckoned it was just enough time to get to know one of my fellow inmates.

I turned to the man next to me, a cobbler named George. “This is off to a weird start, no?”

“I’ve seen weirder” he responded dryly. He was annoyed. Whether at me, or at being in prison, remained to be seen.

“Oh?” I queried.

“That’s right. Never been to prison, but the city I come from is weird enough that we have a slogan that essentially says ‘keep’ and then the name of my city ‘weird’”

“That’s awesome” I replied honestly. It was awesome.

“Yeah. It’s too bad I won’t be seeing that town again.”

“Oh?”, I replied playfully. “What did you do, murder some folks?”

“Not exactly,” he retorted, denying my offer of levity. “Do you have time for a long story?”

“I’ve got all the time in the world,” I said grimly.

“Well, actually I’ll need to tell you a shortened version. We’re in prison together, yes, but we could end up in different cell blocks, in different social circles… hell, one of us could get executed for bad behavior.” He searched my eyes for understanding, and I obliged.

He continued. “I created a pair of clogs for the King, which he loved dearly. They were made of the finest mahogany, with green suede embellishments and jingle bells at the tips. He loved them. But when he wore them to Duke Barrington’s ball, he was laughed at. You see, mahogany was out of fashion at the time. And so here I am.”

“That sucks donkey balls, man. I’m truly sorry” I said earnestly.

He nodded in thanks. “He is a good man, the king. Prone to fits of rage, yes. And terribly vindictive. But we all owe him our loyalty. After all, he was ordained by the prophet Ral-Ersu to rule”

“Couldn’t agree more,” I replied solemnly.

We had arrived at the main building. I’ll spare you the details of the walk to my cell. Nothing interesting happened, so why would I write about it?

I hit the mattress and instantly went to sleep. I didn’t know what tomorrow would hold, but I do now.