Treasures of Life

(Note: There is some slight crossdressing in this story)

“Bone-Jo,” said Franklin, looking over his shoulder. “Bone-Jo take a look at this.”

It was a long weekend and Franklin and Bone-Jo had spent hours maintaining the grounds of the Oshkosh Pet Cemetery and Maximum Security Prison in Rockford, Illinois. They were both lifers, but one less than the other. Bone-Jo had three consecutive life sentences, whereas Franklin’s three life sentences were concurrent. They’d come to the prison on the same day and had already spent twenty years in. Through years of torture, bad food, rebellious cadences and nights in the hole, they had learned to adapt to prison life. So much so that they were allowed to clean up the dead cats and dogs that would often wash out of their shallow graves and onto the edges of the prison yard.

“What is it?” said Bone-Jo, trying to stay calm. 

“I think it’s a dinosaur,” said Franklin. 

“Wait, let  me see,” said Bone-Jo. 

Bone-Jo had a way with categorizing animals. He’d seen so many. His skills were highly sought out on the prison yard. He could tell many animals in the same species apart. It was a skill he’d honed through the pugnacious use of Google’s recently acquired Chat GPT, which was now enshrined as a government utility. Bone-Jo took one look at the dead, half-decomposed animal and shot back at Franklin.

“Franklin!”

“Yeah, Bone-Jo?”

“Why are you talking about dinosaurs?”

“What do you mean, Bone-Jo?”

“This is not a dinosaur.”

“What is it? It sure looks like a dinosaur.”

“It’s not a dinosaur. It’s a lynx.”

“A lynx?”

“Yeah, it’s a lynx.”

“What’s a lynx?”

“What?”

“You just said it was a lynx. That’s what you said, right?”

“Yeah, so what? What’s the matter?”

“Well, you said it was a lynx. What’s a lynx?”

“It’s…a cross between a dinosaur and a cat.”

“A dinosaur…”

“And a cat, yes.”

“So it is a dinosaur!”

“No it’s not! Don’t take this to any museum. They’ll laugh you out of there.”

“So if it’s not a dinosaur…”

“It’s half of a dinosaur.”

“So if it’s half a dinosaur…”

“No Jurassic Park.”

“Look, dude, you’re always ruining my fun. We could make millions!”

“No, my brother. No Jurassic Park. We’re still on notice from last time.”

“You mean the cabaret we had?”

“No, that was the time before last time.”

Bone-Jo and Franklin took the time to re-bury the lynx and then went for chow at the cafeteria. There was an air of finality present as the two of them filled up their plates with the gold: brussel sprouts, broccoli and cauliflower with some gravy on top and one slice of mushroom. They ate and had a good time. Bone-Jo talked about dinosaurs while Franklin tried to convince him that they should start a competitive gaming league at the prison, but only for lifers. He called it: Life on the Box. After the meal, the two of them went and sat on the yard, near the workout equipment. 

“Did you get the tools,” said Bone-Jo, subtly moving closer. 

“What tools?”

“The tools to escape!”

“Shh! Be quiet, man! The whole justice system will hear you.”

“Well?”

Franklin went in his pocket and pulled out an unused tube of lipstick. 

Later on, when Bone-Jo and Franklin were in their cell together, Bone-Jo decided to finally ask the question. 

“Franklin?”

“Yeah, Bone-Jo, what’s happening?”

“Franklin, what are you doing?”

“What do you mean, ‘What am I doing?’”

“Why are you standing in front of the mirror putting lipstick on when we’re supposed to be trying to escape?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I am trying to escape. What are you doing?”

Franklin stood there, at the cell’s mirror, smearing the red lipstick across his lips. He seemed rather casual about it as well. 

“I guess we all gotta crack some time,” said Bone-Jo.

“Crack? Ain’t nobody cracking here.”

Why don’t you grab a saw or a hammer or a file or something and get to work?

“Yeah, yeah,” said Franklin, pressing his lips together. “You’re always in such a hurry to get nowhere. There.”

Franklin then walked up to the biggest wall in the cell, the one facing the yard, and kissed the cinder block, leaving a large lip print there.

“Boy, if you don’t pick up that file!” said Bone-Jo. 

“Come here,” said Franklin as he walked over to the cell bars. 

“Why?” said Bone-Jo. “What are you going to do?”

“Just come here!”

Bone-Jo slowly walked over to the bars where Franklin stood, bracing himself.

“Face away from the wall.”

“What?”

“I said face away from the wall. The lip print.”

Bone-Jo complied, reluctantly. Franklin then rubbed his lips together and kissed the back of his left hand, leaving a lip print. 

“Are you in love with yourself, or what?”

“Sure I am, boss. Sure I am.”

Franklin then took his right index finger and pressed down on the lip print on his left hand. Instantly, there was an explosion on the prison wall.

“What the…!” said Bone-Jo. “You took me through all that for this? You’re crazy!”

“Look, it was the only way to sneak the explosives in. I got myself a little Bond gadget.”

“Yeah, you need a Bond gadget, Kissyface.”

“Shh! The guards will hear us.”

“Well, they would’ve heard the explosion anyway.”

Just then, the prison alarm sounded. There was cheering, shouting and cursing all over the ward. Franklin and Bone-Jo turned to the wall to find an unusual sight. On the floor, there were millions of dollars of gold bars which had been hidden inside the wall that they had just blasted through.

“Oh my God, Bone-Jo!”

Bone-Jo, on seeing the gold bars, fainted. Franklin stood there, frozen. They didn’t wind up escaping, but they had found so much gold in that wall that they were set for life! Anything they wanted, they got: cigarettes, mackerel, even fresh meatballs in marinara sauce. They were the kings of that prison from then on. 

The prison warden wanted to punish them for their indiscretions, but he couldn’t. They were too rich! Bone-Jo spent a few gold coins to buy some stickers to put on his rap sheet and bunk bed, plus some extra stickers for if he changed cells. Franklin used a few gold coins to buy a tarp to cover the wall they had blasted through. Winters were cold there!

Despite their newfound wealth, Bone-Jo and Franklin continued to maintain the pet cemetery at the edge of the prison grounds. Franklin actually paid to have the cemetery re-named to The Bone-Jo Centennial Pet Cemetery because Bone-Jo was the real master of that area.