Originally written as a stocking stuffer for the 2006 Yuletide Rare Fandom fiction Challenge.
I do not own the Blues Brothers, nor any of it's characters. I make no profit...
Riot in Cell Block Number Nine was written by Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller.
Cell Block Full O' Blues
It was lights out, but he didn't seem to care. Elwood blew on the harp, and began to play a few sad notes, over and over, again and again. It sounded like he was trying to remember the song, or perhaps testing out the waters. His brother, Jake, knew better.
"Come on, Elwood, shut it. I'm trying to get to sleep."
The harmonica music stopped for a moment.
Joliet Jake let out a deep sigh, then rolled over. The springs underneath the thin mattress squeaked as it yielded a few inches underneath the heavy man.
A few seconds later, the same five harmonica notes played, again and again.
"Elwood . . ." warned the tired man, desperately trying to sleep. As the music stopped, Jake pulled the rough wool blanket over his head.
Again, the Elwood blew on the harp. As Jake jerked and rolled over, Elwood began to sing. Risking all possible repercussions, the deep, hoarse voice echoed throughout the block.
"December the 6th, 1983 . . .
I was doing time, oh, for armed robbery . . ."
"First you pick me up from the joint in a cop car . . . then you sing this shit when we're in the joint. Come on!"
"'Bout four in the morning I was sitting in my cell . . .
I heard a whistle blow, then I heard somebody yell . . ."
"Why the hell are you singing that?" Jake asked, across the dark room. "That song . . . of all songs?"
The harmonica music began again, and played a chorus.
"Aw, come on Elwood, cut it out." Joliet Jake sat up, and pulled out a cigarette and lighter, lighting up for a quick smoke.
"The warden said come out with your hands up in the air . . .
If you don't stop this riot, you're all gonna get the chair . . ."
"You're depressing this shit out of me, Elwood. Come on."
Elwood continued.
"Scarface Jones said it's too late to quit . . ."
Annoyed, Jake took another quick drag on his cigarette.
"Pass the dynamite and don't you give me any shit . . ."
Jake took one last drag, then flung the lit cigarette across the cell at his brother.
"Damn! That should have hit you . . ."
The harmonica music began again. Jake rolled his eyes, and lay back on his bunk.
"You know Elwood, for someone who doesn't talk much, you won't shut up, will you?"
The room grew silent. After a few long moments, Elwood replied in a deep, drawn out voice.
"Yeaah-up."
Elwood sat back and thought about all the time they had spent apart, while his brother Jake was in Joliet. Then he thought about all the time they would have now, to make up for all that lost time. It hadn't been that long since they'd been sent away. The Penguin, the Nazis, the Cowboys. Damn that SCMODS. It all made him laugh . . . almost. Even though they had been on a mission from God, they still were looking at hard time. It figured.
Elwood thought about all the years they would be cooped up in this one cell, with nothing but a harmonica and a few contraband girlie magazines to keep them company. At least if he had to do hard time, he'd be with the only person in the world that he really loved: his brother, Joliet Jake. He smiled, as he thought about how sweet it was to have the band back together, even if they were all locked up in the joint.
Joliet Jake sat back and thought about pizza.
Elwood put the harmonica to his lips once again, and continued where he left off. Jake sighed, listening to the chorus. Elwood, in a deep, booming voice, continued with his final two lines.
"Our 47th hour the nerve gas got our men . . .
We're all back in our cells, but every now and then . . ."
The room was silent. The harmonica music stopped. Although it was too dark to see anything, Jake heard Elwood place the instrument down on the little wooden shelf by his cot. Elwood sighed, and crossed his arms across his chest.
The room grew silent for a few minutes, as Elwood closed his eyes. Now it was his turn to try and get to sleep. Finally, as he began to drift off, he heard his brother softly sing the final words of the song.
"There's a riot going on, up in cell block number nine."