“I’m no doctor, ma’am.”
“But shouldn’t you come in and get him and maybe take him to the guest house? There must be a doctor among the guests.”
“He don’t want no doctor,” the guard said. “Don’t you know about doctors, ma’am? They’re a bunch of scalywags, every last one of them. My mom used to say, anybody who goes to a doctor, there’s something wrong with them. The home remedies, they’re the best.” He addressed Max again. “Where does it hurt?” he asked. “Somewhere around the rib section?”
“That’s it!” Max groaned.
“Then you’ve probably got what mom used to call riboflavin,” the guard said. “What’s good for that is fish-eye stew. You get yourself a pot and put in some turnip tops, and the bark of a weeping willow, and a ten-months-old badminton net, then fill it to the brim with rusty rainwater, and let it simmer ’til the badminton net dissolves. You serve it-”
“What about the fish eye?” 99 asked.
“You bury that out in back of the woodshed,” the guard replied.
Max groaned again.
“That don’t sound like riboflavin to me,” the guard said.
“The pain has moved,” Max said.
“Since you know so much about healing,” 99 said to the guard, “maybe you could help him. Why don’t you at least come inside and look at him.”
“Oh, I can see what he’s got all the way from over here,” the guard said. “You’ll notice that he’s lying down and his eyes are closed. That’s a sure sign of the blind staggers. If he got up, he’d fall flat on his face. What’s good for the blind staggers is chicken soup.”
“That sounds good,” Max said. “Why don’t you get some and bring it in?”
“It’d have to be Mom’s recipe,” the guard replied. “And I don’t have any shoe tongue handy.”
Max peered at him. “Shoe tongue? For chicken soup?”
“The way the recipe goes,” the guard said, “you take a tongue out of an old shoe, you put it in a big pot, then you add an old horse blanket-diced, of course-the scrapings off a squirrel carcass, the last leaf of summer, the glue from an old book binding, the want ad section out of the July 4th edition of the Clinton, Illinois, Daily Courier (being sure, naturally, to remove the Personal Ads), four hounds teeth, a pinch of salt, and a gallon of spring cider. You cook it for-”
“Chicken,” Max interrupted.
“Pardon?”
“You forgot the chicken,” Max pointed out.
“Shucks you don’t put chicken in it. That’d spoil it.”
“You don’t put chicken in chicken soup?”
“It’s not for putting chicken in, it’s for feeding to the chickens,” the guard explained. “They’re the ones that get the blind staggers. You’re the first human I ever saw to get it.”
Max sat up. “Nevermind,” he said to the guard.
“Max. . what about you-know-what,” 99 said.
“99, if I he here listening to any more of these recipes, I’ll get sick,” Max explained.
“Glad to do whatever I could do,” the guard said, returning to his post.
“That didn’t work too well, did it, Max?” 99 said.
“It wasn’t perfect,” Max admitted. “But that doesn’t mean that we’re defeated, 99. We’ll just have to try something else. How about the old setting-the-cot-on-fire trick? That always works-more or less-in old movies. Do you have a match, 99?”
“No, Max.”
“Neither do I. Well. . that boots that one, too. Unless we could rub a couple sticks together.”
“No sticks, Max.”
“Ask the guard-maybe he has a couple.”
99 went to the cell door and called to the guard. “I wonder,” she said, “if you might have a couple sticks we could borrow?”
“The last time I loaned a prisoner a couple sticks, he got careless and started a fire,” the guard replied.
“Matches, then?”
“That was the kind of sticks I loaned him,” the guard explained.
“Oh.”
The guard returned to his post, and 99 moved back to where Max was waiting. Max had lit a cigarette.
“Max! How did you do that?”
“It wasn’t easy, 99. Since I had no matches, I had to use my lighter.”
“Ah. . Max. . couldn’t you-”
“Hold it, 99! I think I’ve got an idea.”
Max got out his lighter, strolled over to the bunk, then set fire to the mattress.
“Fire!” 99 cried.
“Take it easy, 99,” Max scolded. “I did that. I told you I planned to set the bunk on fire.”
“I know, Max. I’m trying to attract the attention of the guard.”
“Good idea, 99. I’ll help you. Fire! Fire!”
99 joined in, screaming. “Fire! Fire! Fire!”
The guard came to the door. “You know you got a fire in there?” he said.
“Help! Save us!” 99 wailed.
“Open the door and let us out before we burn to death!” Max urged.
“Shucks, that’s the hard way,” the guard smiled. He walked to the wall, got down the fire hose, pointed it into the cell, then turned on the water. It was only a few seconds before the fire died out.
“I did it that way the last time, too-when that fellow borrowed the two sticks from me,” the guard said.
“Yes. Well, that’s quick-thinking on your part.”
“Funny thing is, he didn’t look any happier about it than you do now,” the guard said, puzzled. “Sometimes I wonder if it really pays to do things for folks.”
“How would you like to try it just once more?” Max asked.
“Well. .”
“You could turn off the water,” Max suggested. “We’d appreciate it, I assure you.”
The guard shut off the water. “How come you’re not smiling?” he asked.
Max and 99 grinned.
“I like to have a happy jail,” the guard said, going back to his post.
“Well, Max?” 99 said gloomily.
“We’ll have to try to bribe him,” Max decided. “What have we got, 99, that’s very valuable?”
“I left everything I had in my room, Max.”
Max dug into his pocket, and came up with a number of tablets. “Mmmmm. . I must have had some of those aspirins left over,” he said. “Maybe I actually gave that guard an aspirin instead of the explosive. And that means that I still have the explosive. Maybe. On the other hand, it could have been the explosive I gave the guard instead of an aspirin.”
“Max. . what are you talking about?”
“It’s not important, 99. Or, to put it another way, it’s so important, I don’t want to talk about it. Anyway, I don’t have anything in my pocket that’s valuable enough to use as a bribe. So, apparently, we’re stuck. I-”
“Yes? What, Max?”
“99, do you suppose that guard would be interested in owning a shoe telephone?”
“Well, it’s a tricky little gadget, Max. If he’s interested in tricky little gadgets- Try it, Max.”
Max went to the door and called the guard over. “Say, fella, I wouldn’t be out of line, would I, if I asked you if you might be susceptible to a bribe?”
“Out of line how?” the guard asked.
“I mean, you wouldn’t take offense, would you?”
“Why do you think I gave you all those recipes instead of getting you a doctor? And why do you think I turned the hose on your fire instead of letting you out of the cell?”
“You mean-”
“Stalling,” the guard said. “I watch the movies on television, too. And the way I had it figured, a bribe had to be next. What’ve you got to offer?”
“Tell me, do you have a lot of headaches?”
“You can keep your aspirin tablets,” the guard replied. “That last one tasted funny.”
“Then how interested are you in gadgets?” Max asked.
“I’m a bug, man. Have you ever seen that gadget where when you turn it on all it does is a hand comes out and turns it off? I’ve got a gadget that does that gadget even one better. You turn it on and nothing happens at all. No hand, no nothing.”
“Say, that’s fascinating,” Max said, impressed. Then he frowned. “But how do you know when it isn’t working?”
“When it’s on the blink, it does things,” the guard explained.
“Oh. Well, anyway, getting back to the subject, how would you like to have a shoe that’s really a telephone?”