Daily Prompt, dreams, events, humor, serial fiction, Stories, writing

The Parcel: Back In The Lock Up

I know the fruit loop judge and the moron sheriff didn’t like it and I was fairly sure Téa was going to have something to bitch about when I finally got my butt off the stand in that court room but honestly I couldn’t help it I just had to break out in song. Loud, annoying and with no fucks to give I was, according to those around me, not in a position to be giving such a great solo performance.

“Hey Mr Bond,
It’s all gone wrong
You won the cup,
The moron’s gonna lock me up
Unless you give it up.”

Because they didn’t like the first verse I did the kind thing of offering them another verse. In case it was the rhythm or the beat they didn’t like I changed it up a bit for them as well.

“G’day Mr. Alan Bond
How ya goin’ bloke
This dumbarse fucking judge
Is nothing but a joke…”

It was at that moment the moron sheriff I referred to in the first verse got a little jealous of my wonderful singing and decided that he needed to stop me. Instead of doing the polite thing and just asking me the silly bugger leapt up from his chair, pulled his gun out of the holster, pointed it at me and told me to stop singing.

“Shut your mouth boy.” The sheriff said waving his gun around almost as if he was nervous. “The judge has delivered your sentence. You ought to stop your carry on before he decides not to be so nice and makes all those years count.” I guess you could say I was learning my lessons because I managed to remain quiet and not make any silly remarks to the judge or the sheriff. With my voice remaining silent Sheriff Sillyhead continued. “You will now be escorted back to the jail where you will be able to place your court ordered phone call.”

It was obvious that neither the judge or the sheriff had listened to me when I told them Bondy was still in the country and ringing Perth to give him the deal was pretty much pointless so I said nothing and let Sheriff Sillyhead escort me from the court room.

Outside the courthouse we passed Téa, there might not have been a crowd in the courtroom but she still performed a fairly good stunt getting out of the place so quickly.

As we walked past I said to her. “Are you going to help me here or what?”

“No talking!” The sheriff said.

“She’s my lawyer, surely I’m allowed to talk to my lawyer.”

But the sheriff wouldn’t listen and just kept nudging me along the footpath. “She might be your lawyer Aussie boy, but until you make that phone call and get this Bondy bloke to agree to the deal your ass belongs too me.”

“Oh sheriff, not without dinner and wine first!”

“What did you say?” The sheriff’s tone was enough to indicate he wasn’t really feeling the humour the way I was, perhaps because he couldn’t spell it correctly.

I looked behind me and although Téa was following she wasn’t chasing us or even trying to keep up.

“In you go.” The sheriff said when we reached the cell inside his police station. “I trust that you are not going to cause me any trouble.”

“Can I speak with my lawyer?” I asked stepping into the cell offering no resistance.

The cell door slammed shut with a loud crashing sound. I did find it kind of surprising how much like a movie slammer shutting it sounded, I don’t really know why, but I was.

“Didn’t you just say you weren’t going to cause any trouble?” The sheriff asked.

“Actually I said no such thing, perhaps you need your ears and your eyes checked.”

So much for learning my lessons!

I’d like to say the sheriff was warming to my wit and charm but honestly I don’t think he was because his reaction to my suggestion about a few health checks did not go down well. Perhaps it’s because in Australia we have a better public health care system than America and he wasn’t well insured, or perhaps it was just because he was an arsehole. Either way the reaction was a bit over the top.

It was only a Mr. Shouty, Yelly, Grumpy man reaction and you might be a bit shocked if I wrote down all the colourful words the bad man spoke but rest assured he did not seem happy.

Interrupting the yelling and spitting seemed like an impolite thing to do so I let the man go, although I did think it was a little risky when his face turned beetroot red and I could see veins popping out of his neck. I wasn’t sure what I could say to settle the situation but thankfully I didn’t need to because just as the vein looked like it was going to explode Téa walked in.

“Hello sheriff, it’s good to see you again.” she said as she stepped up beside him. You could be excused for thinking that the way she talked to the guy she hadn’t seen him only minutes before outside the courthouse. “I trust you’ve have a good day.You look good, have you been working out?” Somehow her words were calming the beetroot beast down so for the first time since I arrived in 1983 I was becoming happy to see Téa standing before me. “Do you mind if I speak to my client?”

The sheriff nodded, his colour hadn’t changed but the bite had definitely gone out of him. “Sure Miss, but I can’t let him out of the cell!” he answered.

“That’s fine sheriff, thank you!” Téa said, then as soon as the sheriff was out of sight she whispered, “Here put your hands on this!”

Previous Parcel story here.


  1. I sure hope that means he is out of there?

  2. I think maybe I’m beginning to understand the ‘time travel’ reference…

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