The Pygmy Giant

by E A M Harris

‘No, your honour, I didn’t break in.’

‘Yes, I admit I was in, but it was by mistake. No one in their right mind breaks into a prison.’

‘No, your honour, my mind is perfectly clear.’

‘Yes, I know it was a women’s prison. I repeat – I am not some kind of pervert.’

‘No, I didn’t know it’s not politically correct to use the ‘p’ word.’

‘No. I am not poking fun.’

‘Yes. I can explain. I was tired. It was foggy. The gate was open. I had taken a wrong turning and thought I could get back on track by going through.’

‘No, your honour, I did not recognise it as a prison. I am not familiar with them.’

‘My sister! You say my sister was being held there? I didn’t know that.’

‘Yes. It’s true she had just phoned me, but I did not take the call.’

‘No, I am not in the habit of switching off my mobile when my sister calls. I can explain. It had been a hard day. My secretary put in for maternity leave – at our busiest time of year. My wife threatened to leave me. My mother-in-law ordered me to stop her. My daughter has run out of money only a few days after I gave her her allowance. I did not want to take another phone call.’

‘No. I do not hate women.’

‘No, I am not a masochist who likes being humbled by women. I walked through a gate and it shut behind me.’

‘No, your honour, I do not need an eyesight test.’

‘No. Certainly not. I was not planning to help my sister abscond from the prison.’

‘Why am I going to be remanded in custody?’

‘Pending enquiries? And a psychological report?’

‘Yes, your honour, I did intend to throw my shoe at you.’

‘Yes. Certainly. I would have thrown the other one, if the jailer hadn’t stopped me.’

‘Yes. Definitely. I did know the politically correct term is prison officer. I shall still call her a jailer.’

–

E A M Harris has been writing poetry for many years but only recently branched out into fiction.