4. Life in the Big House

CHAPTER 4 LIFE IN THE BIG HOUSE Poor Mr. Krupp. He had been locked up at the Piqua State Penitentiary for months, and the life of a jailbird just wasn't his thing. All day long he had people bossing him around. He ate nutritionally deficient, horrible-tasting meals in a filthy cafeteria. He got harassed constantly by a bunch of meat-headed bullies, and he spent his days doing menial "busy work" in an overcrowded, poorly ventilated sweatshop.

Mr. Krupp was told when to eat, when to read, and when to exercise. He even had to ask permission to go to the bathroom! He was constantly bombarded with pointless rules, ridiculous discipline, random searches, metal detectors, security cameras, and pharmaceuticals designed to make everyone compliant and docile. It was a lot like being a student at Jerome Horwitz Elementary School, except that the prison had better funding.

Mr. Krupp grumbled angrily to himself as he stomped around the prison courtyard on a gloomy autumn afternoon. In the center of the courtyard, a giant green tarp shielded everyone's eyes from something large and tall that was being built in honor of the Piqua State Penitentiary's upcoming ten-year anniversary. Everyone assumed it was some kind of statue, but since nobody had seen this top-secret project (not even the warden), nobody was quite sure what it was.

"I'm sick of this place," Mr. Krupp muttered to himself. "Everybody's always telling me what to do! If ONE MORE PERSON gives me another order, I think I'm going to go CRAZY!" "Hey, you!" shouted a tiny inmate working behind the green tarp. "Gimme that hammer over there!" Mr. Krupp clenched his fists furiously. "YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" he screamed. "YOU'RE A PRISONER JUST LIKE I AM!" "I most certainly am nothing like you," said the tiny prisoner. It was Tippy Tinkletrousers, who was serving an eight-year sentence for attempting to take over the planet with intent to enslave humanity.

Mr. Krupp rolled up his sweaty sleeves and stomped over to the pint-sized prisoner. He eyed Tippy up and down. Tippy eyed Mr. Krupp down and up. "Hey!" Mr. Krupp shouted. "You look kinda familiar!" "I agree!" said Tippy. "But I can't quite remember where I've seen you before!" The two men walked in slow circles around each other. "Well, whoever you are," Mr. Krupp said, "you've got no business bossing me around!" "I'll have you know," said Tippy, "that I'm MORE than just a regular prisoner! I'm an art-eest! I was handpicked to build a robo— er, I mean, a statue by Warden Schmorden."

Suddenly, a rotund little man peeped his bulbous, dandruff-speckled head out from behind the green tarp. "Did somebody just say my name?" he asked excitedly. It was Warden Gordon B. Schmorden, the guardian and chief jailer of Piqua State Penitentiary. Warden Schmorden was known far and wide for his cruelty and strictness. He once sentenced a prisoner to a year of solitary confinement just for ending a sentence with a preposition.