blood from his head and get a clear view of his situation. He
was in jail, he discovered, and was none too pleased about it
either. "Hey!" he screamed, "Get me the fuck out of here! Who's running
this fucking joint, anyway!" He glanced across the hall, and the same guy was still clanging
the same spoon against the same two bars of his cell, staring
somewhat in Joe's direction. Joe began to ask him what was going
on, but noting the vacant look in the guy's eyes, he thought
better of it and turned his attention toward the end of the hall,
where a middle-aged, balding guard was seated in a straight-back
chair, looking in the other direction. "Hey! Hey you!" he shouted, "Come get me out of here!" The guard simply turned to him, stared at him for a moment, then
yawned and turned back in the other direction, where Joe could
see a portable TV through the wire-mesh window of the door--the
Red Sox were playing, but he couldn't hear the TV.