Sister Sister, Rat Bastards, and Fierce Ice

I’ll just say it. I’m free. Fourteen months of eating food with sketchy provenance and enduring the company of unwonderful people has left me devoid of any fond feelings for Huntsville state prison. Also, I can now pee without an audience. It’s the little things that matter. Don’t take that the wrong way, buddy.

I have thirty-seven dollars to my name, so getting a hooker was out of the question. A decent chicken-fried steak, though, was in the cards. I got to Lily’s Chicken Palace and sat down. I was soon approached by a waitress large enough to be three full-figured women. I gave her my order and hoped that it would make it to my table. Apparently, my waitress succumbs to the pleasures of Lilly’s gravy-smothered cube steak many times a day. I finish, leave a tip of three bucks, and wander outside.

A cigarette would be nice. I wander back inside and steal the waitress’ pack. She chases me, but not for long. Heft and a two-pack a day habit put paid to her pursuit. I lit up and inhaled the vapor of the gods. Then I coughed. Hey, it’s been a while.

I think of Jackie O. Rumor has it that she choked out a maid because she found said maid stealing a diamond necklace of hers. All bullshit, of course. It was her personal assistant. I hear she’s buried with Jimmy Hoffa. The assistant, not Jackie O.

In retrospect, maybe I got off easy. I stole thirty million dollars’ worth of diamonds and got a little over a year. Since I didn’t have the diamonds, I could bargain. I copped a plea. Those rats bastards, Danny and Memo, got six months because they implicated me. The justice system is anything but just. It’s more like a fight club with words, and you just hope your state-appointed attorney is better than the prosecuting attorney.

I get to my brother’s house. He’s letting me stay here as long as I keep my nose clean and keep the fridge stocked with beer. I have twenty-two dollars remaining in my pocket. I buy a twelve pack and hope that my parole officer hooks me up with a decent job.

Two days later, I’m scraping plates. I am now a professional dishwasher, the last defense against crusty plates and greasy glasses. The manager, a guy that’s barely old enough to legally drink, gives me a wide berth. He tells me not to smoke while I’m washing dishes and I tell him to eat a bag of dicks. We understand each other now, so it makes for a nice working environment. For me, anyway.

I don’t like the job, but I like the people I work with. They’re all kids, trying to earn enough money for expensive sneakers, marijuana, and gas. I go out back during my break and puff-puff-pass with the kids. They ask me about prison, so I tell ‘em that it’s mainly boring day after boring day. They ask about being raped. I smile and go silent. Saying nothing is more powerful than anything, at times. They think I’m a god when I smile and keep my pie hole shut. Kids, right? Stupid as shit, but loveable.

Rumor has it that Elizabeth Taylor caught Richard Burton wearing one of her diamond necklaces. He was nude, in bed, waiting for her. She punched him in the balls, snatched the necklace off his neck, and promptly divorced him. All bullshit, of course. It was a diamond tiara, and she punched him in the nose.

I have the diamonds hidden, you see. In a safe place. So safe, in fact, that it’s difficult for me to get to them. But I make an effort because I’m highly motivated. Washing dishes and getting high off kids’ joints is all well and good, but I’m destined for better things.

It’s my sister. She’s now a Sister. I wonder what mom thinks about her kids. One is a jailbird and one communes daily with God. Perhaps she should review her parenting techniques.

Estelle, my dear sister, is housed in the Our Lady of Hope monastery near downtown. She has an aquarium that she’s allowed to keep. I hid the diamonds in her aquarium before the cops got me. So, I decide to break into a convent and steal. I’m pretty sure God understands, but I bet the ranch He doesn’t approve.

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It was amazingly easy to break in. I guess nuns don’t think they have anything worth stealing, or that God will protect them from people like me. Just goes to show, nuns can be as stupid as sinners.

I got in through a bathroom window and found my sister’s room. I had a dozen of my beauties in my pocket when a light was turned on. Dammit, sis! I would have thought that she would sleep more soundly, knowing God was watching over her. I may need to question her about how serious she is about her faith, don’t you think?

“What the hell!” A stentorian voice filled the room.

“Hiya sis. Just came to visit you.”

“At three in the morning?”

“You shouldn’t be saying ‘hell.’ Not in here, sis.”

“Shut up.”

“Say, can I call you Sister sister? I mean, you’re my sister, and you’re a Sister to the world, so…”

The bedroom door opened and two other nuns entered the room. Mother Superior and Sister Agnes, her assistant.

“Sister Beatrice, can you explain this?” Mother Superior’s voice, though as thin as an anorexic actor, commanded attention.

Sister Beatrice deflated a little and gestured toward her brother.

“My stupid brother, Mother Superior. He snuck in here to visit me after his little stint in prison. You may trust that he wasn’t invited.”

Mother Superior glared at Sister Beatrice’s brother, twin pools of blue hardening into a pair of glacial daggers.

“I’ll uh…leave? Sorry for the…”

“Silence!”

Mother Superior’s voice took on a new strength.

“You should be arrested,” Mother Superior said.

“Just…let him leave. Please. I do love him, though he’s a scoundrel.”

Mother Superior stood still for a moment, her eyes boring into Sister Beatrice’s brother.

“He can leave the same way he came in,” she said, closing the door.

Brother and sister looked at each other, though with different emotions. Sister Beatrice was, to put it mildly, put out. Her brother was hoping for an escort to the front door.

“So, go already!” Sister Beatrice said, gesturing toward the window.

“But…but what if I break my neck?”

Sister Beatrice climbed back into bed and covered herself, for the night was chilly with the window open.

“Take it up with God.”

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I can see why they don’t spend a lot of money on security. Sure, it’s easy to get in, but those nuns have superhuman hearing. I swear, they can probably hear an ant fart. And you don’t argue with a nun. It’s physically impossible. I tried, but no words would come out. God had grabbed me by the throat and wouldn’t let me speak. Damned impressive, right?

Got my diamonds, though. Some of them, anyway. Enough to pay the Dvorak twins back for ratting on me. Danny and Memo are in for a big surprise.

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You know, it was easier to break in to the Dvorak house than the nunnery. For one thing, I didn’t have to worry about occupants. The twins were out, doing whatever vile shit they do, and the mom was at work. A little lockpicking magic, and I was in.

Now, I’m a man who believes in a little poetic justice. I may be a criminal, but I appreciate it when things have a certain flair to them. Like now. I’m placing five pieces of this fierce ice I stole in…where do you think…the ice bin. A quick phone call to the cops and the twins found themselves in handcuffs, claiming innocence in the strongest of terms. “We were fucking set up,” was their mantra.

I bribed my parole officer with another two pieces of stolen ice, and then I pawned the rest. Now I had twelve grand in my pocket and an itch that I needed to scratch.

Tiffany and Candy were the willing participants in a bacchanalian weekend. For a price, of course. After negotiations, we went to a nice hotel and had a terrific dinner. Wine, lobster, steak, more wine, and finally bed. I tried to make up for fourteen months of celibacy. My efforts were valiant, and Tiffany and Candy participated with enthusiasm. The cocaine helped.

Sated and spent, I then flew to Las Vegas and played the American way. More booze, more women, and lots of gambling. I had twenty one dollars in my pocket when I got back to town. The cops were waiting for me. That bastard of a parole officer ratted me out. You know, sometimes the wrong people are in prison. All I did was stimulate certain areas of the economy and I’m the one guilty of a crime. Just sayin’.

I have to finish out my five years now. I take the philosophical view that this was all destined to happen. I am what I am. A criminal. When I get out I’ll visit my sister again, braving Mother Superior to get more ice from the aquarium. That is, if Sister sister still has the damn thing. I can only hope.

And, yes, I’ll do something stupid again and get my sorry ass tossed back in to prison. It’s in the cards, it’s in the stars, it’s fate, kismet, whatever you want to call it.

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I’m free! Again. And now I need to retrieve some more ice. Except…

Except that my sister the Sister is waiting for me at the prison gate. It’s hot out here and she’s wearing a lot of black. I wonder how nuns get the sweat stains out of their habits. I bet God helps them out.

Sister Beatrice held out her hand. Three diamonds glittered in the afternoon sun, winking seductively at the recently released brother.

He looked at her quizzically. She shrugged.

“I found all your stolen diamonds. Turned them in for a ten percent recovery fee and gave it to Mother Superior. I kept these back for you.”

“Uh…why?”

Sister Beatrice gazed at her brother mournfully. He used to be such a sweet child, full of laughter and happiness.

“Do something with your life. Take these and make a fresh start.”

The brother held out his hand and took the diamonds.

“Pretty, aren’t they?”

Sister Beatrice nodded.

“Breathtaking.”

“Yeah, don’t get caught up in that, Sister sister. Ice is fierce that way. It can grab you by the balls and never let go.”

“Don’t say ‘balls.’ But…yes. I can understand the attraction.

The brother stared at the three pieces of rock. They flashed with a brilliance that should only come from a higher power.

He handed them back to his sister.

“Take ‘em and give ‘em to your Mother Superior. Tell her you found them later. I don’t want you passing stolen goods to me in your position, sis. I can’t sully a Sister.”

Sister Beatrice laughed.

“Besides, it wouldn’t do to anger God, you know,” he added, nodding his head knowingly.

Sister Beatrice gazed at her brother.

“I don’t think you understand God at all.”

“Maybe not. I understand ice, though.”

The sun beat down on the brother and sister. Both felt the intensity of the Texas sun.

“Want a ride?”

“Sure. We riding in the nun-mobile?”

“Yes, brother. The nun-mobile. Let’s call it that.”

“Thanks for having my back, sis.”

“Well, even sinners like you deserve a break.”

“Agree to disagree?”

“Shut up.”

“Can nuns say that?”

“Just did.”

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I did my good deed for the decade, though Sister sister really upset my plans by turning in all my diamonds. Still, a good deed is a good deed. Maybe God’ll go easy on me the next time I’m a guest of the state.

But for now, I have to case some jewelry stores and find some dependable partners in crime. There are diamonds to be liberated and sins to indulge in. It all takes time, you know. Nefarious plans don’t just make themselves.