"I am gonna do it!" said Cletus to his cellmate Coober - who was also the washboard player in the West Appalachia Correctional Facility Bluegrass Ensemble - currently touring Moorhead, Kentucky. "Hand me a tissue and that razor, I'm gonna git rid o' this beard and the makeup."
Cletus, serving a nickel stretch for vehicular larceny (stealing the only automobile in the entire County - a brand new Model T owned by the local doctor - and then getting caught by driving it around the same County), was in the temporary changing room allocated to the Ensemble while in Moorhead. The guard was on the other side of the door trying to charm his way into the good graces of one of the local beauties.
"But we'll be caught for sure!" exclaimed Coober (three years, criminal damage to a whiskey bottle).
"Maybe so," replied Cletus, "but this is the first time in over a year we ain't wearing stripes." Stripes were the easy to spot uniform of the Facility. Currently the ensemble were dressed up in a costume approximating tuxedos. Both men were also in greasepaint because of the strong lights in the community centre.
"We got us a razor, some clothes that ain't stripes, and I reckon I done seen a motorcycle when I was taking a leak before, now come on!" Cletus was eager for the off.
"What ya got to look forward to ?" he pressed Coober, "More o' Macpherson?" Macpherson was a guard who hated Coober and beat him continually.
"Come on, help me with this window." The window was tiny, but perhaps big enough for them to slip through. "Come on!" he said again, desperate for his friend to join his escape.
"OK already." said Coober, finally convinced. "You shave, I'll jimmy the window."
© Copyright 2012 Raylan (UN: njmckeo at Writing.Com).
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