I smiled as I shamelessly entered the prison gates.  I nodded to the man in the little guard’s hut who had opened it for me, and headed towards the large stone building before me.  On either side, separated by tall fences topped with barbed wire, I saw prisoners in the yard working, playing, and relaxing in the sun of the warm autumn afternoon.

:When I reached the tall vaulted doors of the building, two more guards stopped me, crossing their guns like something out of the middle ages.

“I’ve got business with the warden.” I told them, simply.  They looked at one another unsure.  “The name’s Kramer.”

They both instantly understood and shuffled aside, apologetically.  Iwaited for them to open the door for me, and, when they did not, I cleared his throat loudly.  They again shuffled inward, verbally mumbling apologies, this time, and, as I passed, I said, “And to think I was actually consideringtipping you chumps.”

I laughed as the doors closed heavily and locked behind me.  I knew that the guards hadn’t opened them immediately because they were nervous—not because they did not respect me.  Still, their fear annoyed me.  Did they honestly think I would attack a guard in the middle of a prison yard?  Not unless I was already serving time.

Joe Delaney, a big man in his mid fifties, feigned pleasure at seeing me.  He had been warden for nearly ten years, and yet his office was bare.  Two meager pictures adorned the walls, but his desk was entirely empty apart from his gun, a telephone, and a cup full of pencils and pens.  His voice and actions were as big as his physique, and he greeted me loudly with a firm handshake and a clap on the back and asked if I wanted a drink as I sat down.  I’ve been known to have a drink or two—then again, I’ve been known to do a lot of things—so I accepted a gin and tonic.  The irony that this man was in charge of keeping others in prison—many who were likely arrested on illegal alcohol production or distribution charges during prohibition—was not lost on me.  But I chose to overlook it for now.

“So, Mr. Kramer--“

“Just Kramer, please.”  I interrupted him.

“Well…Kramer.  It’s an honor to meet with you.  I’ve heard a lot about your contributions to the city, and you seem to be highly respected about town.  But I must say that I’m surprised to see you…here.  What can I do for you?”

“Well, Mr. Warden-“

“Call me Joe, please.”

“Well, Mr. Warden…the thing is, I feel that there’s been a terrible misunderstanding.  You see, a good friend and associate of mine, Mr. Isaac Black, has been imprisoned here in your facility.  Mr. Black is a respectable and upstanding businessman, like myself, and I can’t understand why it is that he has been incarcerated.  I would very much like to hear an explanation.”

The warden seemed surprised at my request.  He rose and started sifting in one of the large metal filing cabinets behind him as he spoke.

Your friend Isaac, Mr….I mean, Kramer, has quite a rap sheet.  He was brought in for the distribution of drugs, bribing several members of our police force, and attempting to run a loanshark operation downtown.”  He dropped a rather thick file folder on the desk in front of me.  “I’m not sure where the confusions lie.”

I ignored the paperwork for now.  “The confusion, Mr. Warden, is that I believe we have an understanding about that part of town.  That is our part of town, and we pay good money to maintain it.  The confusion seems to be on your end.”

“But, Kramer, sir.  Certainly you can see how we are unable to overlook certain things.  Order must be maintained, and, with all due respect, I don’t arrest the crooks.  I just hold them for the city.”

“Criminals?!” I could not help but raise my voice just a few decibels.  “You dare refer to my good friend as a criminal?  We try our best to protect our neighborhood.  We negotiate peacefully with the police force—practically put their children through college—and you have the nerve to…”

I stopped, took a breath, and reached in to the pocket inside my jacket.  From it, I produced a thing brown paper bag, which I set on top of Isaac’s file.

“Take a look, Mr. Warden.” I said.

The packet contained about ten photos of the warden purchasing cocaine and receiving bribes from Lordian, another associate of mine, on several occasions.  I enjoyed watching his reaction as he flipped through them change from defiant, to solemn, and, eventually, somewhat fearful.

“The commissioner is a good friend of mine, also, Mr. Warden.   I do not think that he would appreciate receiving this information.  We have another delightful series involving a number of prostitutes.  All of this on top of your spirits, there,” I clinked the ice in my glass of gin, “and you may find yourself out of the job.  Or, worse yet, sharing a cell with Isaac or another one of your inmates.  I doubt that you would find them to be as gracious and understanding as I have been, thus far.”

He grimaced, almost unbelieving, but spoke his first words in to the phone.  “Yeah, Fred,” he said, his natural loudness ringing out for the first time since his greeting to me. “We’re going to be releasing Mr. Black from cell 204.  Yes, that’s right.  A Mr. Kramer will come to greet him.  And let the guys out front know, so that they aren’t given any trouble on the way out.”  He hung up stared at the desk for a few seconds before looking up at me.  “Satisfied, Mr. Kramer?”

“Kramer.” I corrected him.  “But yes, thank you very much, Joe.  It was truly a pleasure speaking with you today.  Now if you wouldn’t mind just forfeiting my friend’s file, there, I’ll just be on my way.”

“Fine,” he said.  “But I get keep the pictures.”

“Oh, go right ahead, Mr. Delaney,” I said.  “We’ve got plenty of duplicates.”

He grimaced again, but couldn’t help but smile and shake his head as I finished my drink and exited his office. 

I went downstairs and met Isaac standing with two guards near the front doors of the building.  He smiled as he saw me coming down the steel staircase.

“You got me out of here, brother?” he asked.

“You bet.  And take this,” I said, laughing and pushing the folder into his chest.  “An interesting read.  We’ve got to figure out which police officers in the neighborhood need a friendly reminder of how things are done in our part of town.”

SINGEROURKE finished his popcorn. It was a delightful story one that made him feel as if he was super powerful himslef. SINGERROURKE  stood up and shook Kramers hand.

Mr....I mean Kramer. I Found that to be a great mafioso story. It really showed the power of black balling someone. I was throughly impressed. It was hard though for the first time i wasnt able to visualized it as i would normally have hearing from you. None the less my dear brother i loved your story.

SINGERROURKE smiled and gave Cosmo Kramer a mans handshake. Simply because they are men and that is the only way to shake ones hand is in a manly way. Or in a womanly way if you were a woman.

:Kramer firmly grips the man's hand:

Thank you SINGERROURKE.  I thought it was a pretty creative and ironic way to make a jailbreak, so I figured it was worth sharing.  I have always enjoyed the tact of our kind.  And it's funny how corrupt some of the "law enforcers" around these parts can be.  It's nice to bring them down to size, every once in a while.  I look forward to browsing Isaac's dossier and figuring out which officers need to be taught a lesson in these parts.

JackSparrow had been liserning to Cosmo_Kramers sotory carefuly

"Mr Kramer" He says shaking the mans hand "That truely was a pleasure to listern to, how you got you friend out of jail was amazing, it sounds alot better than my drive a car through the wall idea. You must let me know what you find from that file, i bet it will spread alot of light upon who's pockets arent worth greasing"