Come With Oz Drabble Tree If You Want To Live
This is our 10th DRABBLE TREE! It's hard to believe that we've made it this far. There may be a special bonus for anyone who contributes more than 10 drabbles to the tree, but you'll have to wait and see! If you want, take a look at the other nine drabble trees: The First Ever Oz Drabble Tree, The Return of Oz Drabble Tree, The Little Oz Drabble
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Lights on, breakfast, work detail, lunch, dinner, lights out. Those were the only actual state mandated requirements of a day in Oz. Everything else, everything else was simply to pass the time. The worst enemy in Oz was time, and its corollary, boredom. Everyone around him was 'doing time', but what do you actually do with time? Play cards, watch tv, shank a man, make a call, shoot pool, start a fight, go to group, give a beating, get fucked, fall in love, break a bone.
All just ways of doing time. Only problem is time does you right back.
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Miguel looked out of the pod onto 'Em City'. It was lights out. This was the time that some inmates dreaded or craved. He glanced over and saw Tobias Beecher looking smug and expectant. Now, there was one man who used to dread the night. He looked across the quad, at Torquemada in his pod. The freak was trying to eye fuck him. There was a confrontation coming with him, but not for a couple weeks.
“Come to bed, “ Ryan's voice floated up from the darkness. Miguel turned and slid into the bottom bunk next to the Irishman.
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Most people would expect a man like Chris Keller to have no fear. That a man who has taken as many lives as his to just laugh in the face of fear. But that was not the case. In fact there were about a million different things he would rather deal with right now that this. He would rather take on a whole pack of rabid Nazi's armed with only a spoon that what he was currently starring down. He dreaded days like this.
Tobias sighed in frustration. "God just get over it Chris. It is just fucking meat loaf."
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Shirley didn't fear death. What would she have to fear? She kept her cell comfy as was fitting for a woman's home. Paid attention to her appearance as befitted a lady. Plus she was charming and tried to make the people around her happy. But must importantly, she had defeated the Devil's plans for her several times. Her hanging would be a victory dance to spite him.
So she had no fear, until she saw the noose. Then the fear tore through her limbs, flooded her senses. Her final moments, like so much of her life, were filled with fear.
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“I said, ‘Hold on a fucking minute!’” she yelled. She’d waited all day to do this, the stick jamming against the outside of her thigh when she’d wrestled Alvarez into his cell earlier.
She peered down at the applicator. One minute left.
“Goddamn it, Claire. Hurry the fuck up.” The banging on the door took on a different timbre. She imagined Sean was using his billy club now.
“Jesus H. Christ,” she shouted, “just because it takes you two seconds to pee doesn’t mean you need to rush the rest of us.”
The lines lit up like two tacky, pink, neon lights and fear tore through her limbs, making her weak. She plopped down on the toilet seat and pushed her head into her hands.
“I’m going to use the john on the next floor.”
Silence.
“You okay?”
She wrapped the test in a paper towel and tossed it into the trashcan. She unlocked the door and shoved her way through. “Yeah.”
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Cyril didn't like being laughed at. The joke wasn't even funny - what's so funny about his nails growing? "Actually, it's just your scalp receding back," the hair-cutter laughed. It wasn't funny 'cos Ryan's real mad now. Cyril didn't like it when Ryan's mad.
"It's okay, Ryan. We can be together again when the special treatment's done. Can I be with Jericho, too?" It didn't seem to help. Ryan never liked Jericho, but Cyril missed them both...
Ryan smiled, "Sure thing, little brother." It made Cyril happy when Ryan smiled.
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Donald's mom always said breakfast was the most important meal of the day. He was not to leave the house until his plate was clean. Donald did not like rules. Donald did not like routine. Especially if it was watery scrambled up egg, untoasted bread, a carton of milk and greenish orange every morning. At least at home, Mom made French toast.
Donald wonders why that guy from the other table gets to make special orders. Maybe he'd be willing to trade his bomboloni...
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Harvard had not been as tough as Toby thought it was going to be. That might have come from the fact that he spent most of his time studying instead of out drinking like just about every other guy on campus. He still had time to enjoy himself. But there was one thing that he missed about home. Every Saturday morning his mom made French toast for him and his brother. He tried the school's but it just wasn't the same. Thankfully Spring Break was only a few weeks away. He would have to make sure he got at least one plate before he had to go back.
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It did not take a person like O'Riely long to figure out what the requirements were to end up in Em City. Sure McManus wanted to think that we were all redeemable in some way but that was complete bullshit. From a guy who talks to God, a guy who ate his parents, a guy spouting nursing rhymes and biting off dicks. The only true requirement for here was being bat shit crazy. Ryan was more than fine with that. Being crazy was a gift and in a place like this you can't be to picky about what was inside.
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Sometimes, Joey D'Angelo really hates his job. While it sounds glamorous enough - hanging out with all the big shots, standing by his boss' door looking all intimidating - They forget the part where he must make sure that banana peel doesn't land on Nino Schibetta when riots break out in the cafeteria. And keep that guy who ate his parents away from his special order bread.
And what is Joey supposed to do when Mr-Schibetta-to-him starts bawling like a baby in front of him? Await furthur instructions and hope he's not over-thinking things, that's what. If Nino's looking for a replacement wife, then Joey's fucked...
In another life, Joey would make sure his job's unionized.
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"Oh come on you know you want too. It would be hot and it would help to pass the time."
"For the last time no. We are not doing it in the elevator. With my luck the power will come back on and the doors will open right when I am finishing up. And for some reason I do not want the people I work with finding out the blond their Detective Stabler fucking is a rich lawyer."
"Oh that's so cute that you think they don't already know."
"What do you mean?"
"They figured it out weeks ago. Apparently you are a very different man when you are getting laid regularly. And the fact that you actually had nice to say about a lawyer for a change was a dead give away."
"Well fuck me."
"My pleasure!"
"Not funny."
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Beecher laughed and moved closer to Elliot, kissing him.
"No."
"You sure you mean that? You are undoing my tie."
Elliot moved away and rested his head against the elevator wall. "We can't do this."
"Why not?"
The lights went on and the elevator began moving. "See, I was right. We wouldn't have had time."
When the elevator opened, Olivia was standing just past the doors. She stared at Beecher's partly undone tie with a smirk on her face. "I see you two took advantage of our power outage. Way to go."
"I was right as well."
Elliot just groaned.
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Elliot tried to just ignore the laughs that kept coming from his coworkers anytime he happened to make eye contact with them. But it was not going to well. You could tell by the state of his tie. It had gone from being partly undone to taken off and tossed in a desk drawer.
"I take it by the way Elliot looks the final horse has crossed the line."
"Yep and you owe me twenty John. I told you I knew HIM better than he did his own self."
"You guys had a pool going?"
"Yep. We had to have something to hold us over until you decided to let us in on you not so well kept secret."
"I hate you guys sometimes."
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When he got back to his apartment, Beecher was there, folders and laptop spread out across the table as if he owned the place.
He should have been angry but that was impossible once he made eye contact with Beecher.
"Hope you don't mind my camping out here. Work's being done at my place, and I was tired of being at the office. So..." Beecher shrugged and smiled.
"It's fine."
"How was your day?"
Elliot opened the fridge and got out a beer. "They had a pool going."
"Who won?"
"Olivia."
"Of course." Beecher walked over, took the beer out of his hand and kissed him. "I say we won."
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It was over. A battle that could not be won. For she had been weak. Of the flesh, of the soul. Desire. Fear. Cowardice. Shirley Bellinger would allow them to overtake her. She had wavered, when her faith needed to be strongest. She had doubted the One True King at her hour of judgement.
Was it what had to happen? Was it what had to be?
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
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He swiped the semen from his lips in one, quick movement before standing to his feet.
“Done?”
Clarence shifted, yanking up his pants in the process. “Done.”
“Good.” Timmy Kirk smirked and palmed him the address of Father Ray’s parish.
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