by William Bebb
He took a step toward the barricaded door before Vito grabbed his arm and spun him around.
“Don't. Don't even think of going over there, George. I know you. You want to help those guys inside. But the skinheads will shoot you dead. Most of them have guns.
We have exactly one pistol and we won't help anyone by getting ourselves killed,” Vito urgently whispered. He saw tears in George's eyes. “Don't look over there anymore. If those shit heads see you crying they'll shoot you and probably me and Jose as well. Now, get your fat ass back over there and push the frigging cart,” Vito said and roughly pushed George back toward his cart.
As George started pushing once more, he stared at the sidewalk while thinking, Vito's just a coward. He's got a gun. Vito acts like he's tough but when it matters most he's nothing but a damn coward!
As they neared Cell Block A, Jose asked, “Hey guys, is that a woman over there?”
Vito looked where Jose was staring and saw a naked blood splattered woman chasing after a bald guy that none of them recognized. The skinny limping bald man tripped over a curb and screamed as the woman jumped on top of him and began strangling him.
“Come on, guys. We're almost safe. Just keep going,” Vito said and hurried toward Cell Block A.
Jose followed obediently and after a few seconds spent staring at the naked woman George hurried after them.
A big man was standing in the doorway to their cell block building. He was holding one of the guard's billy clubs but looked indecisive. As they hurried closer he took a step out from the doorway and then heard more gunshots coming from the main gate and backed up once more.
Jose recognized him as they got closer. “Yo, Jasper, what are you doing?”
The big man looked at Jose and the others before saying, “T... trying to... to leave, but it... it bad: Really crazy bad.”
“It's okay, man. We got food and a gun. Stay with us. It's not safe out here,” Jose said as George panted hard and leaned against his cart, while Vito watched the naked woman warily. She didn't seem to have noticed them yet as she continued doing something to the man lying near the road. It was hard to see what was going on because of the drifting smoke, but it didn’t look like she was up to anything good.
“Bad out here. Bad in there, too,” Jasper said in a choked voice, while wiping at his eyes and pointing toward Cell Block A.
“I don't give a fuck how bad it is inside. If we stay out here we will all get killed,” Vito said and reached for the door.
“Whoa, wait a second. What if the skinheads or some other crazy fuckers decide to torch our cell block building too?” George asked.
Vito swore and turned to look at the figures by D Block. There was laughter as they began piling into cars and trucks. While they watched, the rest of the skinheads that had been guarding the bonfire began to leave and the number of gunshots increased as the vehicles headed for the open gate.
When they were gone, Vito said, “We need to get inside. If someone tries to burn us out... I don't know what we'll do, but we'll think of something.”
George thought that was a pretty shitty answer and was about to say something more, but the sound of running feet approaching through the clouds of drifting smoke seemed to steal away his voice as well as his objection.
Vito opened the exterior door of A Block and stepped into the hallway. The nearby guard's office was a smoldering ruin and he noted the door was missing. He looked at Jasper but the big man just shrugged and said, “Don't look at me. I didn't take it or set the office on fire either.”
After Jose and George wheeled the carts of food inside Vito looked at Jasper and asked, “You coming in? It's dangerous out there.”
The big man sighed and walked back inside. Jasper was shuddering and having a hard time meeting anyone's eyes.
Jose walked over and patted Jasper on the shoulder. “Relax amigo. It's okay. We're safe now.”
There was laughter drifting from the common area of the cell block mixed with screams that charitably could be described as singing. The voices seemed happy but the sound made Jasper cover his ears and turn away with his eyes shut tight.
“I know that song, at least I think I recognize the tune. It's The Twist. It's an old rock song by a guy named Chubby Checker. My grandpa used to play it sometimes when I was a kid,” George said.
Jose and Vito exchanged worried looks that George didn't understand.
“What? What's wrong?” George asked.
Vito whispered, “Remember that sick fuck I told you about, Twisto?”
George nodded and felt the tiny hairs on his body rising up as goose bumps broke out on his skin. There were screams outside and someone began hitting the outer door as Jose said, “Twisto and his psycho buddies always liked to sing that song.”
Jasper nodded in agreement and shuddered.
Vito reloaded the revolver and said, “I don't care if he's in there. Twisto's leaving. And you guys are going to back me up, right?”
Jose looked back at the exterior door with a wistful expression. Jasper stared down at his shoes and George just appeared confused before asking, “Just how bad can he be?”
In the commons area of Cell Block A, twelve recent escapees from the Psychiatric Ward were badly singing their rendition of The Twist. They were all still dressed in their dark blue jumpsuits and each had bright white talcum powder covered faces with smeared on bloody smiles as they energetically sang. Unfortunately it seemed many of them had no idea how to carry a tune and were actually more shouting the lyrics than singing.
Another dozen or so rather dimwitted prisoners were sitting on the concrete floor looking up in excitement at the singers. They were swaying to the song and appeared be having a great time.
On the far side of the commons area several other slightly smarter prisoners were whispering and trying to decide what to do. The desire to quickly leave the building was growing and many of the men had already gone back to their cells to retrieve whatever personal belongings they wanted to bring along.
They stopped whispering and looked over as Vito and Jasper led a few other men into the common room. Two of them pushed carts into the closest cell and then all four walked over to join their group.
Vito and an old man named Joe, who most of the prisoners respected, began trying to figure out what to do and compared notes on what was going on. As they talked, Jasper stayed close to the hallway leading outside. Jose was talking with some of his friends and George walked over to the big man. “You're Jasper, right?”
The big man nodded but kept his eyes on the choir of tone deaf psychotics on the far side of the room.
George thought Jasper was one of the biggest prisoners he'd seen at Bayonne and wondered if the giant was right to be scared or if he just wasn't quite right in the head. “You don't have to worry, Jasper. Vito's pretty smart.”
The big man didn't look down at George as he spoke in hushed tones. “I fucking hate clowns. Their faces are always white like a corpse. My mama's face was white like that after I choked her to death. I mean, it took a few days for it to turn white. At first it was all bruised bluish and dark. Then it got scary looking as the days went by and she started to stink and attract flies. It wasn't exactly the same white color of clowns but close enough. I fucking hate them and... They scare the shit out of me. Know what I mean?”
George nodded, although he had no personal fear of clowns, he knew some people could be pretty freaked out by them. But it was hard to understand how such a large intimidating man, like Jasper, could be afraid of anyone.
One of the psychotic white-faced singers at the bottom of the stairs saw a gesture from the second floor and bellowed, “ITS SHOWTIME! EVERYBODY SHUT UP!”
The singing and excited talking stopped at once. In the hush that descended there was the sound of a metallic drum roll as Spazzo rapidly hit an overturned bedpan with two pencils.
Twisto started coming down the stairs singing loudly and relatively in tune,
“All ki
ds love Twisto!
Who comes downstairs,
alone or in pairs,
molests the neighbor's dog!?
Everyone knows its Twisto!
It's Twisto, Its Twisto!
He's fun, he's crazy, he's psychitzo!”
The crowd at the bottom of the stairs cheered wildly as Twisto marched down the steps pushing ahead of him a terrified old man that had a broken broom stick handle jammed deep inside his bowels. The infamous clown had a hand wrapped firmly around the end of the stick and gave it little jabs whenever the tortured man slowed down.
When George realized what he was seeing he had a mental image of the man having been turned into an unholy living corn dog.
“Hiya, kiddies! Boy, it's good to be back home. Did you miss me?” Twisto asked in a very high screeching falsetto tone of voice; reminiscent of rusty twisted nails being scraped across a blackboard.
Twisto noted the small group on the far side of the commons room, but wasn't very worried about them. Plus, he had a show to do. “Say hi to the kids, Jimbo!”
The old man mumbled something and winced.
“How about it kiddies, did you hear my friend say hi?” Twisto asked while jabbing the old man a little harder.
The audience roared, “NO!”
“I guess he hasn't gotten the point yet. Come on, Jimbo, don't be a stick in the mud. This is a party!”
George saw that Twisto's clown makeup was a mixture of talcum powder, blood, and (more disturbing than anything else) for hair he had two patches of Dr. Hagan's bloody scalp with its easily recognizable frizzy hair sticking up and out somehow stuck on top of his bald head. The hair reminded George of one of the Three Stooges, but he couldn't recall the character's name.
“Why, bless my soul? Is that my big buddy Jasper I see standing shyly over there in the corner? Come on over. Don't be a wallflower. I won't stick anything in your eye!”
When the big man didn't move Twisto yelled, “Red Rover, Red Rover, send Jasper right over...before I need to get another broomstick!” as he guided his unorthodox living stick puppet to the bottom of the stairs.
Jasper started trembling until George patted the big man on the shoulder.
Twisto saw the gesture and asked, “Who's your fat boyfriend, Jasper!?”
George glared at the freakish looking clown and saw almost everyone in the commons room was staring at him. His face flushed a bit but he wasn't intimidated and yelled back, “I'm George, and you don't scare me!”
Twisto grinned wickedly and asked, “Not Bayonne's very own George Burns! I heard about you! Heck I bet everybody's heard about you!” The clown cackled and did an odd little dance without letting go of the broomstick. “I'm so glad you're not scared of me, George. I just like to make people happy. When someone told me what you did to get sent to Bayonne, I even made up a little song about you while I was in seclusion.”
“You mean while you were locked up in the psycho ward!” George yelled back.
They were standing on opposite ends of the commons room and people watched one speak then turned their heads to see what the other would say next. It reminded Vito and Jose, as well as several others, of a tennis match.
“Be nice!” Twisto screamed and stomped his foot before clearing his throat and sang,
“Georgie Porgie pudding and pie,
fucked a girl and then she died...
as a result of a painful suicide.”
George's face blushed beet red and he heard the laughter coming not just from Twisto's group but from a few people behind him as well, including Jasper. The echoes of laughter seemed to go on for a long time before there was a shout.
“ENOUGH!” Vito bellowed as he walked past George and came to a stop in the center of commons area.
The crowd that had been excitedly watching Twisto hushed and turned to briefly glance in annoyance at the skinny man with his thin mustache before looking back in near adoration at the clown.
Twisto glared at Vito and the group of people standing skittishly behind him. Most appeared ill at ease if not nearly terrified. The clown smiled broadly and asked, “Enough what?”
“Ezekiel, you and your buddies need to leave. This is our cell block.”
There were grumbles from the clown's gang and followers, but Twisto only laughed mockingly before asking, “Oh, really? I didn't see your name on it. And, by the way, my name is TWISTO!”
A chorus of “Yeah,” and nods of agreement came from Twisto's group as they marveled at the clown's grasp of simple to understand and undeniable logic. The cell block belongs to everybody.
“You and your friends need to leave before things get messy,” Vito said steadily and slid the revolver from its holster. He held the gun at his side and resisted the temptation to point it at the homicidal freak.
Twisto saw the gun held in the young man's hand and looked contemplative while sliding his fingers through Dr. Hagan's frizzy hair that somehow mysteriously stayed in place on top of his head. No one could see the surgical staples that Twisto had painfully used to secure the bloody hairpiece in place.
Finally, he smiled and said, “Tell you what we'll do, 'sheriff'. There's plenty of room here for everyone. We will stay on our side of the cell block and you and your pussy... I mean posse will stay on your side. How's that sound?”
There were giggles at the word pussy, but Vito shouted, “No deal! You freaks need to leave right now!”
The clown stomped his foot and screeched angrily. “That's rude; just plain old fashioned rude. No wonder you're in jail. You're just a big bully,” Twisto said before jamming the broom stick deeper into the old man's bowels.
The unorthodox living puppet grunted and the clown's audience laughed as tears ran down the skewered man's tortured face.
“I'm a reasonable clown. Ask anybody. Hey Jimbo, don't you think my suggestion was reasonable?” Twisto asked the man impaled on the broken stick.
“Yes. It seems reasonable to meeeee,” Jimbo squealed the last word out as Twisto forced the stick deeper into the man’s bowels.
Vito raised the gun, pointed it at Twisto, and pulled back the hammer.
Twisto laughed and hid behind the old man, while shouting, “Hit the old man on a stick and win a Kewpie doll! Hey Spazzo, show everyone what I like to call Dr. Hagan The Kewpie doll.”
Spazzo was a fairly old man also dressed in asylum blue and had clown face makeup nearly identical to Twisto's. He held up a severed hand that had a penis and testicles stapled to it. The balls were painted with blood and there were appreciative ooh and ahh sounds coming from the audience.
Spazzo had no tongue. He'd lost it when he first came to Bayonne and said something to a member of the Sabres gang. It was something he later realized that he shouldn't have.
Jose came up beside Vito and whispered, “Just shoot the crazy fucker.”
Vito had no moral reservations about shooting the psychotic clown, but realized if he killed him the odds were pretty high the rest of his gang as well as his audience would probably exact violent bloody revenge. “This is your last chance. Go!” Vito yelled.
“You're no fun anymore,” Twisto answered before cackling and saying behind Jimbo, “I kill me, because you can't!”
The old man impaled on the broken stick began shuddering and groaned weakly before collapsing to the concrete floor.
Twisto had the stick wrenched from his grip as Jimbo fell. The clown looked over at Vito and said, “See, this is why we can't have nice things.” He paused then held his hands out as if pleading. “Besides, you don't understand me. I'm the crying on the inside kind of a clown. You keep acting like a dick and soon you'll be crying on the outside and I'll be laughing both the in and outside, you turd burglar.”
The crowd roared laughter until Twisto asked, “How do I know you've got bullets for that thing? Maybe you're trying to play tricksy with your old pal.”
“Shoot him,” Jose whispered urgently into Vito's ear.
Vito wanted to shoot the c
lown and almost fired but resisted the urge.
Jimbo moaned and stopped shuddering.
Vito quickly lowered his aim and shot Jimbo in the head. The contents of his skull sprayed out and coated both Spazzo and Twisto from the knees down. Vito then quickly pointed the revolver back at the clown.
The gunshot was loud and as it echoed nearly everyone who'd been gleefully watching the clown scattered away and stared at Vito as a wisp of smoke drifted out of the gun's barrel.
Twisto looked down at the very dead mostly headless man lying at his blood splattered feet for several long seconds. He was nervously chewing on his bottom lip and swaying a bit back and forth.
Spazzo was still holding the disturbing looking Dr. Hagan Kewpie Doll and grunted what sounded like nonsense noises.
Twisto apparently understood what he'd said. He looked over at Vito. “Spazzo says, how do we know that wasn't the last bullet in your gun?”
Vito reached into his pocket with his other hand and held up one of the speed loaders. The overhead lights made the brass bullet casings seem to sparkle like precious gem stones.
Twisto clapped his hands together loudly and looked at his group of followers and those that had been watching the show. “Alrighty then, come on kids. We won't stay where we're not welcome.”
As his followers and groupies gathered behind Twisto, the clown glared at everyone on the other side of the room before saying, “You've all been such a great audience. I wish I could kill you all. Come on, guys.”
Vito kept the gun pointed at the clown as Twisto began sauntering toward the exit while loudly singing to the tune of I'm looking over a four leaf clover.
“Oh, I'm looking over my dead dog Rover,
that I just ran over with the mower.
One leg is broken, the other is gone,
the third one is splattered all over the lawn.
There's no need explaining the one remaining
is caught in the basement door.
Cha, cha, cha.
Oh, I'm looking over my dead dog Rover