Criminal Records

The records for each, individual prisoner was kept under lock and key. Fortunately for us, our guard had the key. He pulled out an enormous book from a sealed file cabinet. We both gave him our name, birthday, and astrological sign so he could look up our records. Mamba was first. "241 counts of bad puns." The guard reads. Mamba laughs. "It should be higher." "3 counts of escape." "That's more accurate." Mamba says. The guard disdainfully flips to my page. "1 count of eating the forbidden fruit." "No one said I couldn't." "Pretending to be a God." "That's blasphemous, but I don't think it should be illegal." "Breaking exile." "That wasn't my idea." I reply. The guard temporarily looks up from his book. "Keep reading." I insist. "And escaping the dungeon." "Ok, I'm guilty of that." I admit. The guard clasps his book shut. "Ok boys, you still want to do this appeal thing?" "Absolutely." I say without thinking. The guard thrusts the sword in my face. "Then let's go see her." "Her?" I question. "Yes, her. Ms. Ruth. The governor of our fine land." The guard places iron chains around our hands and feet. This is not at all how I pictured this, but I think I can still bounce back.