and there we were. again. except we weren't in hell, obviously. that arrogant ignorant brat threw us into our tiny cell, which only had one bed. seriously, not even the prisons in spain are that bad! anyway, there were these tough looking guys stuck in the other remaining cells. i have to hand it to the kid; his guards don't screw around. i sighed, grabbing one of the cups given to us to drink (pee?) out of and banging it against the bars.
"uh, tulio? what are you doing?" miguel asked. i would respond with some sarcastic comeback, but i had no idea what i was doing myself.
"i honestly don't know, miguel. they just do this in prisons a lot for some reason."
"well, you're going to attract the guards' attention!" my comrade pointed out.
"maybe i'm begging for a death sentence..."
"what?! why?"
i rubbed my temples. "because, miguel- I HATE THIS FREAKING DUMP!" of course my yelling caught the attention of one of the guards. he approached our cell, glaring at me.
"what's going on here, prisoner?" the guard asked.
"it's tulio; and honestly, you should be able to figure that out for yourself."
"hey! if you disrespect me like that one more time, i'll squeeze the jelly out of your eyes!"
i rolled my eyes at his threat. "like that's ever gonna happen! i wasn't even disrespecting you, man. can't we use a little more... sensibility, here?"
"bah! i can barely understand you. you bloody foreigners coming up nowadays. you guys have the worst fashion sense and you can barely speak as it is! and don't get me started on the diseases..." he groaned and got back to work. "yeah, like you guys are any different." i muttered to myself. of course, though, miguel just had to have heard me.
"oh, lighten up tulio! not all of the natives here are bad... i think!" miguel said in a clearly audible voice. the guard, expectedly, walked back to our cell.
"oh, and now you're saying we're the diseased, poorly clothed, gibberish speaking ones, are you now?! come with me, 'gentlemen'. i want to show you two something." the guard pulled out the keys to our door and unlocked the cell.
"look, tulio! the man is setting us free! i told you some of them were nice people!"
i facepalmed. "no, miguel, he's not setting us free. in fact, i got a feeling that something bad is about to happen to us. as in, the opposite of good."
the guard grabbed the two of us by our arms and dragged us outside. in front of us was a big bucket of water. with me and miguel having our hands tied up and the guard being perfectly capable of killing us in seconds flat, i just knew what was going to happen next. the guard motioned us to the bucket, and having no power to refuse, we reluctantly approached it. and here comes the kicker; the guard forcibly dipped our heads in the water until we began to run out of breath. before we died from lack of air, he brought our head back up, we gasped, and then the jerk repeated the process. for an hour. yep, you heard me right. sixty. straight. minutes.
after he no longer seemed to be amused by our suffering, he took us back to our cell and locked us up. i would've dried my face off with a towel, but there was a problem; there were no towels in the cell. i groaned.
"damn it! there has to be a way out of here! it hasn't even been a day, and i'm already sick of this crap! i can't believe i'm saying this, but this just might be the worst prison i've been to in my entire life."
"but tulio, we're not technically alive."
"yes, miguel, i'm fully aware of that. it's called a 'figure of speech'. you know what that is, right?"
"well... yes. but there's something i've been wondering about; how did we die?"
"...what? what kind of dumb question is that?! you know how we died! we were beheaded by that stupid english guy for 'not paying up our debts'! did you get stupider after we entered hell?"
"no, i just assumed the reader was wondering."
"reader? what reader?"
"never mind..." miguel sighed.
