Daily Warm-Up
[Mrs Ryan takes a cake to her imprisoned son. The guard destroys it while checking it]
Mrs. Ryan: Oh, look what you are doing, ruining my cake. It isn't for you anyway.
Prison Guard: Sometimes people put guns in cakes.
Mrs. Ryan: How stupid! Who could eat a cake with a gun in it!
from: Railroaded! (1947)
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After another birthday visiting her son, Mrs. Ryan felt the need to freshen up. Maybe a little lipstick. Maybe a little rouge. Look something nice for a change, maybe. Fingers roving around her purse for her prettying business, she felt the cold cylinders of bullets. Ah, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! She looked behind her. Maybe if I… No. Damnit. Always. Always something. She paced in front of the prison. C’mon, girl, think. She looked at the walls and briefly thought about throwing the bullets over the wall and signaling her boy with compact’s mirror. But, no. That was stupid and the Ryans were so goddamn smart. How in the hell do you give your boy a gun and no bullets? What, are you giving him a conversation piece? Okay. Okay. Calm down, girl. Maybe if she went into the prison again, talked something sweet to the guard and said she needed to see her boy for one more thing. Maybe grind the guard a little, give him the thrill of the afternoon. She looked in her mirror again, pulling on the skin beneath her eyes and under her chin. Maybe no.
Mrs. Ryan: Oh, look what you are doing, ruining my cake. It isn't for you anyway.
Prison Guard: Sometimes people put guns in cakes.
Mrs. Ryan: How stupid! Who could eat a cake with a gun in it!
from: Railroaded! (1947)
-------------
After another birthday visiting her son, Mrs. Ryan felt the need to freshen up. Maybe a little lipstick. Maybe a little rouge. Look something nice for a change, maybe. Fingers roving around her purse for her prettying business, she felt the cold cylinders of bullets. Ah, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! She looked behind her. Maybe if I… No. Damnit. Always. Always something. She paced in front of the prison. C’mon, girl, think. She looked at the walls and briefly thought about throwing the bullets over the wall and signaling her boy with compact’s mirror. But, no. That was stupid and the Ryans were so goddamn smart. How in the hell do you give your boy a gun and no bullets? What, are you giving him a conversation piece? Okay. Okay. Calm down, girl. Maybe if she went into the prison again, talked something sweet to the guard and said she needed to see her boy for one more thing. Maybe grind the guard a little, give him the thrill of the afternoon. She looked in her mirror again, pulling on the skin beneath her eyes and under her chin. Maybe no.
posted by Mike Drucker at
9:30 AM
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