by KW Finch
"Yeah, sweet." I'd picked that phrase up from other cons, it was used a lot.
"Who you after?" He carried on
"Muzzleflash." I smiled
"That's his cell," he nodded toward a cell, "but he's not about."
"Oh" I replied.
"Don't worry," he continued, "he'll be back soon. I see you come prepared." He looked at the plastic cup in my hand. "Sit down a while and tell me about yourself."
I sat next to the guy wondering if he was another of Fulwood Hills nutters. He actually seemed alright though, to my surprise and great relief. He was a family man and started telling me about his wife and kids. He had that great charm about him a lot of Irish possess and I couldn't help but warm to him. His love of Ireland and the people were obvious. He'd obviously kissed the Blarney stone several times over because he just didn't stop talking.
"You'll be wanting a drink with Muzzleflash then?" He finally said.
"Thought I'd give it a go." I smiled. "Not tried it before. How about you, you invited?"
The Irishman lifted one of his hands, it was as big as a shovel. He opened it to reveal a china cup, the same size as my plastic one only his whole hand engulfed it.
"I like a drop of the Muzzleflash brew." He grinned.
Just then the door to the corridor entrance at the far end opened. It was Crusher, with a quick look around he nodded over his shoulder. He was immediately followed by Muzzleflash carrying a white gallon container with a screw top lid. He looked at us as he walked toward his cell, a huge grin on his face.
"Brews up boys." He said softly.
With that the Irishman was out of his chair.
"Come on fella." He chuckled to me.
I followed Muzzleflash and the Irishman into the cell.
"Keep an eye out Crusher while I filter this." Crusher just grunted and pulled the cell door to, standing outside in the corridor.
There was a letterbox size window three quarters of the way up with the longer side running floor to ceiling. Crusher pulled the metal flap covering it back so he could see into the cell. Muzzleflash pulled a bucket out from under his bed and pulled a clean tea towel from inside it. He unfolded it and spread it over the top of the bucket.
"Hold onto that, Mick." He told the Irishman and he gladly obliged.
After putting his cup down he placed his huge hands around the top of the bucket, holding the tea towel in place. His hands almost met around the rim of the bucket. Next, after undoing the lid Muzzleflash started to pour the contents of the white container into the tea towel. A pale greenish liquid sploshed out along with what looked like lumps of apple and some other stuff but I couldn't tell what.
A few seconds later the smell hit my nostrils. It was unmistakably alcohol, but different. It was quite overpowering, a raw unrefined smell. Not like the sophisticated alcohol smells I was used to and yet there was something about it. Yes of course it was coming back to me now, Somerset. Mum and dad used to take me on holiday there when I was a kid. We'd get the train from Paddington.
The week would be spent cycling and fishing and scrumping. I hated every minute of it, ‘get a cab to take me home.’ I remember saying. Dad used to take the mickey out of me, what was it he used to say? Oh yeah, ‘You can take the boy out of London but you can't take London out of the boy.’ We'd go down the pub of an evening, kids weren't allowed in so I'd play outside with the other kids. Dad would sneak a glass of scrumpy out to me without mum knowing.
"London!" it was Muzzleflash, and I was back in prison again, "Give Crusher the nod, will you."
I knocked gently on the door. Crusher peered through the letterbox opening and stared icily at me. I waved my cup at him and mimed a sort of drinking motion. Without any sort of acknowledgement he pushed the metal door open and entered the cell.
"Come on Muzz, I need a drink." Squeaked Crusher.
It was the first time I'd heard Crusher the baby eater talk. I was expecting a gruff noise like an angry bear but all I could hear was Mickey Mouse with an extra dose of helium. The whole image of baby eater was shattered in an instant.
"Hold on fella you know the ritual," it was Micks velvety voice, "brewer has first taste."
"Yeah, yeah, come on then Muzz have a sip then we can all have a go." Crusher was a thirsty bloke.
"Patients my friend." Muzzleflash was trying to calm him. "These moments should be savoured. We have precious few of them. Mickey, will you do the honours please."
Crusher gave a very audible sigh while raising his eyes upwards. Mick took a breath and composed himself for a couple of seconds before speaking, waiting for everyone in the cell to settle.
“Fellow villains and brothers in arms,” he began solemnly, “for what we about to receive may we get truly pissed.” With that Muzzleflash scooped up a cupful from the bucket and took a sip. He screwed his face up like he'd just put the sharpest lemon in the world into his mouth and his eyes winked uncontrollably.
"Well?" asked Crusher.
"Mmm," said Muzzleflash after a moments consideration, "Passable, tuck in everyone."
"Hooray for that." shrilled Crusher as he scooped up a cup of the liquid. Mick soon followed Crusher and I was last.
"This won't go far." I murmured while filling my cup.
"Pace yourself fella" Mick advised, "If you've not had this stuff before you need to go careful now."
"Ok Mick, here goes then." I said, raising my cup. "Cheers everyone."
I took a sip and what followed was moving to say the least. First my vision went with everything going white and out of focus. Then my tongue felt as if it was being slowly sliced off with a razor blade and just to make it a little more painful the remains of my tongue appeared to have a whole lemon wrapped around it. My eyelids went out of control at this point, blinking independently.
Not wanting to waste the alcohol and spit it down the sink as every instinct told me to, I swallowed the liquid fire hoping to ease the pain. No chance of that. I could feel the journey of the molten lava making its way down to my unknowing stomach. All too quickly and painfully it arrived and I was sure there was an explosion in my stomach followed by a raging fire.
"Good?" I could hear someone saying but it was a faint and distant voice. I was on planet pain and being tortured by volcanic alcohol. After a while my vision started to slowly return, it seemed to take forever. The speckled white dots were disappearing and gave way to reveal Muzzleflash staring at me. I tried to speak but no words came out of my mouth just a rasping sound. Muzzleflash laughed.
"I think he likes it." Mick chuckled.
"Yeah?" I managed to get out. I imagine the lining of my throat had been stripped away.
"Have some more." Muzzleflash urged. "The more you drink the better it gets."
"And the more pissed you get." Crusher put in.
"Everyone’s a winner" Mick laughed.
"I'll drink to that." Muzzleflash added and with that we all took another swig of the toxic brew.
Strangely enough the second mouthful wasn't nearly as bad. Most of the nerve endings had probably been killed off I thought to myself. I couldn't believe I was starting to feel drunk so quickly, this was really powerful stuff. It was doing the job alright. After a few more swigs I was starting to feel pretty good about myself.
Muzzleflash turned his radio on, the tiny Roberts radio crackled into life. Mick stepped his talking up a gear and was telling us childhood stories now and the antics he got up to. Muzzleflash was quite happy just sitting there grinning, joint in one hand and hooch in the other.
"It don't get better than this" Mick chuckled, taking a sip of the brew.
"Some girls would be nice." I reflected.
"Mmm, I’m working on that one." Muzzleflash laughed. "Watch this space."
"I don't think I'd know what to do with a girl after all this time." Mick confessed.
"I'll take your one then, as well as mine Mick." I laughed.
"And you can have her so, there was only one girl for me and s
he passed on while I was in this place here. Have you no one special London.”
"I'm sorry to hear that Mick." I really was. "But no, they are special for that night but the next morning I like to move on. I don't want any kind of commitment, other than great sex."
"Ah, you're a shallow man London, you'll learn."
"God forbid." I declared.
By now most of the brew had gone. Muzzleflash shared it out the dregs between us all. Crusher, who had been quiet for most of the time finally started to talk.
"Good brew, Muzz." He squeaked.
And so the evening carried on, becoming increasingly blurry as the Muzzleflash brew took a vice like grip on my senses. The jokes and the banter becoming funnier and funnier.
SEVENTEEN
Ow! I was in some serious pain. The morning after the night before was horrific. It felt like the little man was back inside my skull again only this time with a very large hammer. He was standing just behind my eyeballs and every time I moved my head he went into a frenzy and started a wild rampage. He was smashing and crashing about and shouting at the top of his voice while trying to smash his way out of my head. What was that he was shouting? Oh yes, that was it, ‘Serves you right.’
This was the mother of all hangovers. I just couldn’t believe such a small amount of that innocent green looking liquid could have such a major effect on my body. I mean, I was the man, I knew how to party. I’d done some proper drinking in my time, but now I just felt like a teenage amateur.
I tried opening my eyes which turned out to be a very, very bad move. The morning sun was peeping through my makeshift curtains covering the window opposite my bed. The bright rays stabbed at my retinas and flooded my aching head with the searing morning sun and adding to the already unbearable pain. The little man in my head didn’t like it either, going absolutely mental with his hammer which incidentally had grown in size by at least a factor of two and his shouting had now become an ear piercing screech.
It was while lying there that the events of the previous evening started to come back to me through the chaos going on behind my eyes. The Muzzleflash mob were certainly an odd bunch alright, but then what was normal? I sure didn’t know anymore. The thing that really puzzled me and it really was strange to be honest, was the fact that I’d actually enjoyed myself a bit. It wasn’t too bad an evening.
Sure, the booze was awful and the company was weird to say the least oh yeah and there were no girls. Oh and of course and at any moment the screws could have walked in on our little party, now that would have put a dampener on the evening. But the fact remained that I had actually enjoyed myself. I think one of the reasons was that I was doing something with a risk factor.
It was a similar feeling to doing a blagg, that nervous buzz I got when working a job. God how I missed that feeling, the adrenalin pumping through my body. Admittedly a few sneaky drinks wasn’t in the same league as walking into a bank with a sawn off shotgun in your hand, but I did feel it. It started when Muzzleflash was straining the hooch and Crusher was on lookout. That electric tension feeling that makes me do the things I do for a living. I’d missed that feeling over the last few weeks, for a few brief moments I’d felt alive again. I needed some more of that feeling again, it made me want to get out of bed in the morning.
Not this particular morning though, boy did I feel rough. It was tough but with a mammoth struggle I pulled myself up to a sitting position. The room carried on moving after I reached an upright position and it started to spin around faster and faster. I knew this feeling well and where it normally ended. I didn’t really have much time to decide if the toilet or the sink was the best option to throw the contents of my guts into. The toilet won and after talking to god for a few minutes on the big white telephone I felt a lot better.
It was while cleaning myself up I could hear Monk’s dulcet tones calling out in the distance. ‘Servery….’ It was the summons for Muzzleflash and his mob, breakfast was on its way over. Food was the one thing I couldn’t face but a cup of tea was much needed. I eventually found my cup under the bed, the smell of last night’s hooch still lingering in it. The smell gave me an instant reaction to throw up again, this time the sink won.
I cleaned myself and my cup up and waited for a screw to unlock my door before heading to the dining hall. I fell in line with the other cons already waiting. There always seemed to be the same faces at the front of the queue for every meal. It was a bit of a social gathering for them. Sometimes there would be some special selection of food but only in a limited number, so as the regulars were at the front of the line they had first dibs on it.
I thought better of queuing in the end, after all I only wanted hot water for my tea. I walked to the other end of the queue and helped myself from the tea urn. Muzzleflash was sitting there, waiting for the urn of porridge to turn up.
“You look a bit the worse for wear, heavy night?” He laughed.
“Something like that.” I countered.
I took my teabag out of my cup and put a dribble of milk in my steaming tea from a jug next to the urn and sat down at a table at the end of the dining hall. One of the advantages of drinking tea at breakfast was proper milk, none of that powdered rubbish.
I sat for ages sipping my hot tea, eventually I started to feel human again. The little man in my head had stopped shouting and bashing around with his enormous hammer. I was just about ready for another cuppa when Muzzleflash and his mates came and sat with me.
“Oi Oi London,” chirped Gibby, “how’s the old noggin this morning then?”
“Not too clever by the looks of him.” put in Johnny Briggs, “I heard you tucked into the brew last night.” His face as serious as ever, “Can’t handle your booze.” he continued before going back to his breakfast.
It was then that I noticed that each of them had a full plate of fried breakfast and I raised a finger, pointing lamely at Muzzleflash’s brimming plate of sausage, bacon, eggs and beans.
“How come….?” Was all I could manage to get out.
“Perks of the job.” He said grinning as he shovelled in a forkful of sausage and fried egg, smothered in brown sauce.
“So what did you think of the old Muzzleflash brew then?” Gibby continued
“I think it should carry a health and safety warning if you ask me.” I said, rubbing my sore head.
“Well yeah, of course. But you can hardly pop down the local off licence in here. You have to improvise a bit, don’t you Muzz?” Gibby finished, looking at Muzzleflash.
“It is an acquired taste,” Muzzleflash smiled, “but you do get used to it in time.”
“Well, time is the one thing I do have plenty of.” I reflected, “Lots of time, so when’s the next party?” I laughed, which really wasn’t a good idea with my bad head.
“Next Saturday.” Muzzleflash answered. “It seems quite fitting to have a booze up on a Saturday night, besides the weekend screws are a bit more lax so there is less chance of getting caught. I’m laying a new one down in a bit if you want to help out?”
“How can I refuse.” I replied. “I’ve drunk your booze, it’s only fair. What’s the deal?”
“Ok, good,” Muzzleflash continued, “Monk has gone back to the wing office, as he always does after servery duty. We’ve got about another 20 minutes before he and any of the other screws venture out onto the wing again. Let me just finish off my grub and we will get to work.” And with that Muzzleflash tucked into his breakfast.
Five minutes later Muzzleflash and myself were heading back to his cell.
Once there he began to work quickly.
“Watch the corridor, to see if anyone’s about.” He urged.
I positioned myself in his cell doorway and watched the length of the corridor towards its entrance. I could also see quite clearly what Muzzleflash was up to. He took the white container from the previous evening and produced a plate from a cupboard of cut apple pieces. He quickly filled the container with the apple and two bags of sugar he
had also produced from the same cupboard.
It dawned on me then why Jacob had been trying to sell sugar on the day of my arrival. It wasn’t for lags with a sweet tooth but for the hooch. He then tipped in what looked like peanuts and raisins before filling the container with water from a jug at the side of his bunk. He then produced from the pocket of his servery whites a small cling film wrapped white blob. He looked at me and smiled. He guessed I was going to ask what it was.
“Yeast.” he grinned. “I know someone in the kitchens.”
He then bunged the blob of yeast into the container and screwed the lid on tightly. It was then that I noticed the lid had several tiny holes in it.
“Okay.” Muzzleflash looked up at me, “We’re done here, is the coast clear?”
After quickly checking up and down the length of the corridor I gave Muzzleflash a nod, “All clear.” I added.
“Good, here’s the plan.” He went on. “We have to get this container back to the servery and tucked up without anyone knowing, screws or cons. Obviously my lot on the servery know what’s what but I don’t want anyone else to know. As far as anyone else is concerned this is a bottle of detergent, okay?”
“Yeah, understood.” I affirmed. “Let’s go.”
I set off to the end of the corridor and peeped through the small window in the heavy door that separated us from the main wing. It was all clear. I signalled Muzzleflash and he started to walk toward me. I pushed the dark blue door open and stepped through the narrow gap while looking all around.
The wing office was my real concern because there was a clear line of sight from the door where I stood to the dining hall entrance and the servery. It was then, walking up to the doors the bulk that was Monk stepped out of the wing office. He was holding a piece of paper in his pudgy hand and was intent on reading it as he ambled along. I kept walking, not missing a beat but watching his every move. I pushed the dining hall door open but did not go through, there was a natural blind spot where the door hinged and I pushed myself into it. I looked back at Muzzleflash peering through the small window in the door, signalling him to wait. He nodded back.