Pride Will Always Refuse Love

Previously on Bad Blood Bandits: After snooping around Grant’s room due to boredom induced by an absentee Charlie, Jackson had found a still. Grant caught the snoop and the two struck up an uneasy partnership.

Grant had come from a long line of moonshiners so there was a perfectly good reason for him to remember the name of Eliot Ness. During Prohibition, his family kept mostly to themselves (Their mistrust of the Irish went back as far back as the Old Country) and so avoided the unwanted attention of the FBI.

It was Josh, the new attendant, whom Grant and his newfound partner had to avoid now. Avoiding attention was much easier when the guards genuinely didn’t care any more than they had to in order to avoid getting in trouble with The Warden but this one needed skill at avoiding authority. Jackson, having spent years around Charlie, was well-versed in the art.

The pair had only one insight about Josh: that he cared- or at least pretended to care for some sick reason- about all residents, or “raisins” as they were called by the other guards (attendants). He would spend his breaks listening to their stories or passing out what little mail the residents received. They usually only had mailers or credit card offers but even so, it had become an unspoken competition between them to see who had the most mail because somewhere in their decaying minds the idea that mail equals love or at least a demand for attention and, even if it was a credit card company, someone in the world wanted them for something.

The problem for Jackson and Grant was that, with all the attention Josh was giving the “raisins”,he would even sit down at each of the tables and talk with them and if he didn’t have a chance to talk with everybody, he would walk them to their room (something Grant found out the hard way when he tried to avoid him the whole meal and ended up with Josh almost in his room) so it had become harder to sneak fruit back to the room without him noticing, much less using it as the subject of a poor attempt at conversation. He could tell that these two wanted nothing to do with conversation and he had heard so much about Jackson and Charlie. With Charlie gone hermit, Jackson was his only victim of curious and awkward conversation.

What made Josh even more desperate was their constant evasion of him. They were like the one sheep worth leaving the other flock. Nothing makes someone more desperate to give love than someone who will not receive it.

This, the two bootleggers discovered, could be used to their advantage. It was agreed that one of them would distract Josh with some bogus story about their past. They were careful to keep playing hard to get with him to keep him interested so the other could sneak out to the still with what ever fruit or sugar they needed for their science project.

It worked well until one day, Josh confided in Jackson. “I think your friend Charlie might be making alcohol in his room.”
Tune in next week for some good old-fashioned backstabbing…
…or maybe even just regular stabbing!

Feuds and Flues

Part 1 of The Child

            An appearance by his son was rare but when it occurred, Jackson was usually intoxicated with spite for weeks. Charlie was more than a little annoyed by this but, unfortunately for the home (with the exception of Charlie’s patience) there was a small series of colds making the rounds and so most everyone avoided contact with each other.

Janine of course was the exception; taking this, of all times, to be plaguing everyone with her desperate cries for attention. It was probably her fault that these colds were so well spread and no one flinched at the opportunity to blame the Banshee.

By the time their forced hibernation had come to a close, Jackson’s sharp bitterness had run its course-the way your body recovers from poison- and he was ready to spend time with people again without being too much of a prick.

Charlie usually, by the simple nature of his day-to-day mischief, dragged Jackson out of his snappy gloom but this time he was preoccupied with something and stayed in his room.Jackson knew better than to bother him; if he wanted to be left alone he was to be left alone and no one was going to argue with someone who will spike your drink with a vengeance.

It was another trickster that broke the monotony.

Grant was never much of a people person. He kept to himself and, except for moments of wrath directed at Chesley (the two of them had an incurable feud since Grant was every bit of a Yank as Chesley was a Southern gentleman), was usually quiet. Since those moments were the most anyone ever saw of Grant doing or saying anything out of the ordinary no one really had the desire to approach him. Even if they did, their expectations would be well rewarded.

Because Chesley was so easily annoyed by Grant, the latter usually stayed as long as he could after his breakfast was done for the sole purpose of getting under the southerners skin.

It was this and the presence of a new guard that caught Jackson’s attention. Not once as long as Jackson had been there had he witnessed the arrival of a new attendant so it goes without saying that this was of particular interest to him if he had not given up his duty to attempt escape.

What demanded his curiosity further was Grant’s odd activity after meals. Jackson noticed it when the flue had died down and everyone had resumed dining together again. At first he just thought it was a little strange seeing Chesley sitting alone at the table towards the end but when he’d managed to get glimpses of Grant sneaking away from the table not long after everyone else had been awarded what the cook called food.

Normally this wouldn’t raise any red flags since Grant was a loner but it was well-known that one of the few people he liked being around, as strange as it might sound, was Chesley.

When someone is a glutton for spite and bitterness, whether they will admit it or not, the people they love to be around the most are the ones that feed their appetite.

This distraction needed immediate attention and it didn’t much matter whether it was to cure his inflamed curiosity or his sedentary boredom, he absolutely had to know what Grant was up to that could possibly make him surrender his favorite pastime.

Join us next week for the usual mischief, mayhem and mythological archetypes!

The Absolution Of Sins…Bandit Style

Previously on Bad Blood Bandits: Inspired by the spite that comes of being wrongfully accused and therefore wrongfully sentenced to clean toilets, Jackson spiked the Warden’s coffee with particularly strong hallucinogen. This being Charlie’s signature move the Warden responded by cutting off Charlie’s supply of narcotics. Jackson began to feel a little guilt at causing his friend to be deprived of the one thing that made this hellish place bearable.  

Part 5 of I Wanna Be Sedated

Not everyone who seeks redemption will find it but anyone
who seeks forgiveness can find redemption.

            Admitting fault was not a habit Jackson’s. Neither was helping anyone acquire narcotics yet there he was, sitting in the tattered and uncomfortable couch staring at a pair of Charlie’s grandchildren brainstorming for ways to smuggle narcotics in under the Warden’s nose.

Of course, he could have just walked into the Warden’s office and explained his guilt but since he was already in the doghouse after being falsely accused of assaulting an attendant, this was far from an option. As far as the Warden was concerned, he was getting off easy with cleaning very one of the 60-plus toilets in the building despite his bad back. A second incident in a week would bring untold retribution and chastisement on the old man not to mention admitting guilt; a fate worse than whatever damnation would be inflicted upon him.

He was still left with the problem of absolution –absolution, as far as Jackson was concerned, simply meant making the sentence for the crime null and void. Yes, Charlie was being punished for something he had no part in but if Jackson were to find a source outside of the Warden’s control the punishment would be irrelevant and therefore the crime would be nonexistent. The problem was,Jacksonhad absolutely no idea how or where to acquire drugs of any kind. Even a pharmacy to him was an abomination to the human immune system.

Absolution however, was taking a backseat in Jackson’s mind. The front seat was occupied by Charlie’s grandchildren ages 14 and 16 who seemed to be enjoying themselves too much. The two of them had stopped by most likely because they were bored and thought it was amusing to see Charlie struggle with memory. Sometimes they brought a friend to show off their patriarch like a zoo exhibit and, although there was much snickering had by whoever came to see the show, they usually seemed much too out of place to be having fun probably because they weren’t causing some sort of trouble. They had inherited Charlie’s knack for finding it even though it skipped their parents.

To move in any closer would be obvious and the last thingJacksonwanted to do was interrupt what seemed to be scheming. He knew the look on Charlie’s face when he was on to something and it was even more frightening to see it reflected in the children of his offspring.

His curiosity was pumping adrenaline through his veins. He tried to put his head back and pretend to go to sleep so he could focus on their voices and drown out the ambient noise of the Home but he could barely make out any words and just trying made it worse. To the untrained eye he might have looked serene and peaceful all the while a tempest was brewing in him with every word that he could not hear completely.

The voices tapered off and Jackson opened his eyes quickly and looked around as if he had been startled. Charlie was saying goodbye to his grandchildren with a warmth that was not there before although there remained some vestiges of awkwardness as there usually was in abundance.

Charlie hurried over to Jackson and tapped his shoulder like an excited child.
“My grandkids are brilliant! Who’d have known they came from such prudes!”
“Are you gonna tell me about it or just spout cryptic and uncalled for compliments about your grandchildren at me?” Jackson replied. Charlie looked around uneasily as Lars entered the room.
“Not here.”

As soon as they were in a safe retreat from any eavesdroppers Charlie explained that he could get his usual supply of opiates from his “brilliant” grandchildren who were in more trouble than Jacksonhad imagined and were most certainly Charlie’s decendants.

It would have been better forJackson to have found the solution himself- at least it would have made him feel better- but the result was the same: the punishment was averted and so the crime had ceased to exist.

I My Pot Runneth Over

(Part 2 of I Wanna Be Sedated)

Previously on Bad Blood Bandits: During a yawn of a bingo game, Jackson, being thoroughly bored at the lack of activity (trouble, din, mayhem or whatever you prefer), helped the officiating guard (Donald) keep his foot warm by setting it on fire with Charlie’s zippo.

 Not long ago, Jackson and Charlie held a bet whether Donald (the guard whose foot was burned in last week’s story) looked more like a goat or a jackass. The general consensus was that Donald was as ugly as his temper no matter what animal he looked like so neither of them won and Charlie somehow ended up with the money.

There was nothing left to study in the Warden’s office except the Donald’s goat face because the office was all too familiar to Jackson. Every item had been investigated thoroughly from the chair opposite the Wardens from the many times he was made to wait for her to arrive for his scolding after an ill-fated escape attempt. Unfortunately for Jackson, the goat face, shaded by his black hair, stared back with an angered and reluctant humility underneath a spiteful smirk. Everything from his face to the smirk on it was a fire under Jackson’s simmering rancor**. There was nothing in the office that could distract him from the aching in his jaw.

The Warden walked in with a small glass carrying only a little water* and plopped down in her chair. She dropped her elbows on the desk like she was in school, demanded to pay attention.

“So, there’s no fire and yet I have been called here interrupting my peaceful and quiet evening at home.” The reason she had even been called in was because a brand new member of the staff had pulled the fire alarm at the first hint of burning rubber.

“Hasn’t stopped you from bringing your “peace and quiet” here.”Jackson nodded at the glass of clear liquid. The Warden ignored him with obvious annoyance and turned to Donald expecting an explanation. Jacksonhad feeling he might be paying for that later but it was a relief to let out a little of his spite even if it pained his jaw to do so.

“He set my foot on fire.” Donald stated, expecting capital punishment.

“Really? He set your foot on fire.” The Warden was quickly loosing interest and took a swig of the “water”. “You couldn’t have just confined him to his room for the next day?”

This was a standard punishment when Jackson or Charlie escaped or caused any sort of great ruckus.

“Then he hit me.” Donald quickly added. And the smirk on his face broadened a little.

Jackson’s jaw clinched and a scowl covered his face. In the mayhem caused by the burning rubber and the fire alarm, Jackson tried to retrieve the lighter and when he did, he was met with Donald underneath the table investigating the cause of the burning sensation in his foot. When Donald realized why Jackson was after the lighter he, as rage were his reflex,  gave Jackson a crack on the jaw.

The proud old man could take any punishment given for something he did but this heated his simmering to a boil.

“Assaulted one of my employees? Hmm, Jackson, you’ve had back trouble before correct? You may assist Luke in cleaning the bathrooms this week.” The Warden’s face perked up a little and she killed the rest of what was in the glass.

…continued next week

*pronounced: Vod-ka

**Bitterness, not to be confused with the monster in Jabba’s basement.