Running head: MONK BOVINIAN RHAPSODY 7
Monk and the Bovinian Rhapsody
Thomas Edmonds
ENGL-211G
Rachael Krygsman
October 23, 2018
Monk and the Bovinian Rhapsody
Prisoners shuffle down the corridor leading from their cells to the outer courtyard where they are allowed an hour of exercise. "Eyes forward, mouths shut" the escorting guards remind them, sometimes with a little physical reinforcement. Dyce, a Scottish castle turned adult prison work camp now houses approximately 300 first time and repeat offenders. One such offender is Alby Murkoff, a petty thief who escalated to bigger and more extravagant heists. Alby used his baby face and diminutive stature to his advantage. He once dressed up like a kid on a field trip to rob the National Museum of Scotland. He stole three medieval coins (dated 1555, 1601, and 1604) from the Kingdom of the Scots gallery. When the alarms triggered, Alby walked out with a group of 4th graders during the evacuation. Flustered teachers and chaperones hurried children, Alby included, onto buses. Alby rode right out of the crime scene undetected, smiling through the window in the back of the bus as it drove away.
Alby did not steal for the lucrative monetary benefits. He was a trust fund baby with investments he didn't even know about, set up by his now deceased parents. He just went to the bank, made large withdrawals, and the money was ALWAYS there, in abundance. He let the accountants worry about the dirty details and book balancing. But instead, Alby stole for the attention. Being the child of corporate elites, he couldn't earn mommy's and daddy's affection. "Earn." That about sums it up. If it didn't bring in a profit, his parents had little to no use for it. Maybe if Alby wrapped himself in ticker tape, they would notice him hovering yearningly at their feet as they sat in their home office on the phone making multimillion-dollar deals before breakfast was served. How ironic they would even name him Alby, derived from Albion Venture Capital Trust, the leading investment company listed on the London Stock Exchange. Especially since they often opted out of quality time with sweet Alby in exchange for social drinks with the stock market's "Who's Who." Additionally, being shorter than everyone else in his grade, and sometimes the preceding grade, he was often overlooked or completely ignored by his classmates. He was never picked to be on the intramural sports team. His dwarfish size did not translate to great athleticism.
Once outside, Alby shields his eyes from the morning sun, a light he's not accustomed to after 20 hours spent within the castle walls lit with only primitive fluorescent bulbs and portable rechargeable lanterns where wiring was impermissible. He mosies his way to his usual spot along the fence line all the while mussing the thick, blond tuft of curly hair on his head as the other inmates make their way to the basketball courts and soccer fields. Alby knew he wouldn't be asked to join. He just stood there conspicuously inconspicuous.
Alby looks upward towards the watchtower where Jim Leer is getting into position. Each inmate is assigned a job at the work camp: librarian, cook, laundry detail, cattle-hand, gardener, etc. Jim was appointed "town crier" because of his loud, booming voice. Jim was incarcerated for ID theft. He was a street performer, mesmerizing passer-byers with his effortlessly powerful singing, belting out sounds that matched his 6'5" frame. While audiences gathered around, his cohorts unscrupulously stole credit card information via cleverly concealed RF ID scanners. After the people dispersed, Jim and his buddies went on shopping sprees, mainly buying priceless memorabilia from their favorite 80's rock bands. Their capers were all compromised because of Jim's big ego who would sing of his escapades on YouTube videos that went viral, especially within the law enforcement circles.
Once in place, Jim turns east to the basin mountains which helps reverberate his message throughout the camp. "Today's lunch will be chili con carne", Jim announces. "Chili con carne?", the inmates balked. "What is chili con carne?" They were used to traditional Scottish "scan", the slang word for meal, being served on a daily basis. Meals such as neep and tatties (turnips and potatoes), bangers and mash (potatoes made with lots of butter and milk and sausages) and Haggis. Oh Haggis, the national dish of Scotland. Made from sheep's liver, lungs, and heart, minced with spices, salt, onions, and oats cooked inside the sheep's own stomach. The smell of it cooking would make any of these hardened criminals, long for the days as a child watching anxiously as their maw prepare it for the family. These dishes would have to be put on hold since the former prison chef just recently fell ill. "Ill" was the mild term the warden would use to describe less than treatable conditions, such as getting shanked in the shower. In the meantime, the role of chef would fall upon Felipe Matamoros, a Spanish immigrant spending time as a "guest of the prison" for overstaying a student VISA. Scottish courts became increasingly creative in their sentencing of non-violent criminals. Felipe was transferred to Dyce to serve out his punishment while awaiting a follow-up hearing. That was two years ago. Unfortunately, Felipe only knew how to cook two dishes, chili and chili con carne. In addition to making the announcements, Jim would also serve as prison entertainment (No, not that type of entertainment. It's not that kind of fanfic). He used his background in street performance to put on shows for the camp. However, Jim would only sing top hits from the 1980s, the era when the rock band Queen topped the charts. He knew all the Queen cover songs; he had them all down, Save Me, I Want It All, Under Pressure, Another One Bites the Dust, and I Want to Break Free (for some reason, a work camp favorite).
When the inmates' hour of exercise and entertainment were up, then it was off to their assigned jobs for 3 hours of labor. Alby worked in the stables, primarily shoveling cow manure; collecting it to be dried out and used as cheap fuel for the furnaces. Once the stables were cleaned, Alby would assist with milking the cows (Cow's milk is what made the bangers and mash such a hit at dinner time.) On occasion, he would also help the local veterinarian tend to the expecting mothers. On this day, Alby skips out on the shoveling and heads straight for the stalls where the pregnant cows were kept. He walks down the middle row ignoring the other cows, some grazing on hay, some sleeping, some peering through the fence to see who had come to pay them a visit. Alby is not interested in the other cows. He is only there to see Astrid. Astrid, a Scandinavian name that means divine strength, was a 10-year-old cow that had bore many a calf at the workcamp. Some of the calves were raised to give milk, some were sold at auction and the income used to fund the prison and some were used for meat (you have to get the meat for sausage from somewhere for your bangers and mash). Alby kneels at the entrance of her stall and reaches in his hand to pet Astrid. Astrid raises her head, recognizing Alby from his many, many, many visits over the last nine months. He looks her over noting how much bigger she had gotten since he last saw her. To Alby, she was a beautiful creature. He knows this is the last time she'll give birth. Alby strokes the top of Astrid's head and says, "One day I'll deliver you, and you'll deliver me."
"Get on the boat, Monk!', Sharona persists as the line of passengers waiting to board the ship grows increasingly longer behind them. Monk looks down over the railing at the gap between the dock and the boat. "But I can't swim", Monk rebuts. "That's why they conveniently provided you a boat, so you don't have to swim", Sharona annoyedly remarks. Monk takes one small step on the gangplank and quickly back off again, on again, off again. The passengers with their personal effects begin to look at one another in bewilderment. Some set their bags down realizing this may take a while. Light murmuring turns to louder complaints as one older gentlemen shouts, "I'm on this cruise for my 80th birthday. I don't want to be still standing in this line on my 81st."
"Has anyone ever fallen overboard on one of these trips?" Monk asks. "No" huffs Sharona, "but some have probably been pushed off" she mutters under her breath. "What?" "Nothing Monk. Let's just get on the ship." "Are there enough life vests for everyone?", Monk asks the cruise director as he greets oncoming passengers. "You know, just in case." Monk makes a gesture with her hand to signify the boat capsizing and sinking. "Don't you worry, ma'am. We have plenty of life jackets, plus extra. You know, just in case", passively mocking Monk. Monk takes a step as if to board the ship and then turns back sharply to the director. "Could I have one of those extra vests? Since you do have extras." Sharona hurries Monk across the gangplank on board the Norwegian cruise liner that is setting sail for a 7-day trip to Scotland. This is the first vacation Detective Audreanna Monk has taken in years. Detective Monk, more accurately "former" detective Monk, served on the San Francisco Police Department (SFPD) until her husband was murdered. After that fateful day, she would never be the same. Compulsive behaviors that once made her such an insightful and intuitive detective have become debilitating. Fear overtook her, making her unsuited for her job on the force. She now serves as a private consultant for the SFPD on special cases that require her unique perspective. Sharona Fleming, her nurse/assistant, is with her to help make sure Monk relaxes, a task easier said than done.
Newly added LEDs atop the outer castle walls flash signaling approaching visitors, a feature that would have been extremely useful to the Scottish king before Great Britain's invasion in the 17th century. The white van slows as it nears the west gate. The driver hands the guard their credentials who scrutinize them before peeking his head inside the cab to ensure there was but the single occupant driver. "Come on through," he says as he waves the vehicle on. Once inside, Katherine Headridge, the local cattle veterinarian, pulls into the visitor parking area and steps out of her medical van. She looks back in time to see the fortified gates close. She thinks to herself, "Only one way in, only one way out." She's met by the prison warden, Max Brewster, who got this dismal assignment by trying to kiss up to his superiors (after kissing, and so much more, several of his superior's wives.