When Herb woke up again, it was to a loud, obnoxious, foghorn-like sound. Pulling himself slowly from the ground, he looked around, realized where he was, and would have fainted yet again, if the foghorn had not blown again, directly into his ear.
"Wake up, wake up, wake up! Move it, move it, move it!" yelled a large, muscle-clad beetle, who looked to be in her 50s. She was carrying a large, whip-like instrument and was screaming at the top of her lungs.
Remembering what the guard had told him about a warden waking him up, Herbert slowly got to his feet. Not fast enough, however, because the warden quickly aimed her military clad boot into his esophagus.
"You should be up, dressed, clean, bed made!" the woman screeched.
Herbert, having been in a terrible mood, however, from the woman's charade this early in the morning, blew up in her face. "Excuse me," Herb yelled, "I am supposed to be what? Clean! Are you insane? How long have you been here; when may I ask was this room ever clean?" Herbert was about to begin one of his long and thunderous tirades, similar to when he became enraged at the woman with her supposed tree (he still hadn't gotten over this), when he was promptly hit with the whip.
Well, let me suffice to say, that by the end of the day, Herbert, having been forced to work for nothing, no reason, and do menial tasks that the warden always found fault in, was worn, tired, hungry, really, really angry, and almost (pretty much one teensy, tiny, baby step away from) from psychotic.
Daddy Long-Legs chose this moment to pipe in with another slurred comment. "Heeeeeey cat… wanna know what's up caaat? I… got a fly fryer right here cat… and it ain't no joke… Ro—llins gave it to me… ya know… the guard…." He then reached under a sack of whatever drug he was high on at the time, and held up, a silver, metal, thing, with a keypad, that looked something like a…
Herbert exploded. "You had that thing the whole time!" Herbert, who had been through something almost equivalent to death over the past 24 hours was suddenly stopped in his tracks. Oh great… I've done it! I've reached INSANITY! There's no way that idiot had that the whole… what was it, 30 years, he's been here… and not used it… I am sick, and dying! When will this be over? Herbert slumped to the ground. "God help me!" he cried to no one in particular.
Just then, the warden walked by the cell. "You still have that thing Daddy?" she questioned. She threw a bucket of water into the cell, splashing Herbert with ice-cold, freezing liquid (in an attempt to torture him). Breaking into a fit of laughter, she yelled over her shoulder, "Even with something to get you outta here, you couldn't get out!"