TWO GLABROUS BLANKET-MONKS ambled on Tombscradle prison yard. Michael and Peter were gregariously distributing eleemosynary, handmade Rosary to the White inmates — made of stringing-up, polished pebbles.

It was assiduous practice by the blanket-monks to cumulative handpick pebbles on the yard, to make the prayer-beads as an ecclesiastical service — to the growing hortatory congregation, with the inclusion of the Black prisoners.

A Latino youth followed them along the fence that separated the Hispanic's yard from the White's. The stranger chatted...

"Psst! Padre Michael, give me one — give me a Rosary please."

The watchful Michael peeked and queried him...

"Will you not get in trouble if your leader Ramirez catches you with it, 'Brother'?"

"I will hide the rosary Padre."

Then, the Latino then searched into his pocket and took out and showed them an old scrunch up photo of a man — and he whispered with earnestness...

"Today is the death anniversary of my Papa, who died 18 years ago after the Medusa attack. Please say a prayer for his departed soul, Padre."

It was an amenable and a simple humane gesture for the idyllic Michael to do — even though the Hispanics were the sworn adversaries to Hajja's current supportive Black gang — who were congregating their Christian ministry in Tombscradle during Sunday Mass in the big-yard compound.

"Yes, my son."

Michael recited a short prayer in Latin to the photo held by the Hispanic. Michael then gestured the sign of the cross, from his side of the fence.

The gullible monk was unacquainted that it was an old photo postcard of the actor Antonio Banderas, the popular Hollywood film star before the Medusa days. The youth was one of Ramirez's spies — he had set out to get access on the 'grapes' about the impending uprising — that was spoken about openly among inmates since the Preacher's public flogging.

Michael looked around in angst, before giving him a Rosary through the fence hole. He and Peter then walked away but the Latino kept following them along the fence — and kept hassling...

"Psst! Hey Padre, I would like to say my confessions."

Michael suffered from more nervousness...

"Please Brother, you will get into deep trouble — and Ramirez will kill you. Just say you confession directly to God and recite your Rosary — and God will forgive and forgo your sins."

The heartrending youth poignantly responded...

"I wish the situations on my side of the camp were different — and I can join together with many others of my 'eses' — and we join by listening to your Sunday sermons — and of the great Preacher's sermons too.

"Many of us Latinos here too believe — the Preacher is down-right innocent — and it is the 'Bolillos' warden and her crows who are just 'bum-beefing' against him. We too support the Preacher's promise — to start the revolution that will liberate us all from this damned place soon...

"So Padre Michael, stop the front-act — and let us know, when our Preacher will 'pop off' this promised revolution — so that, we too can fight along with him against those female bitches?"

Michael and Peter did not reply; with disinclination from his harassment, they paced away in a hurry, hearing his voice calling out a little louder...

"When do we fight, Padre — when?"

The frustrated Latino then lighted his frajo. The spy then turned to Ramirez who was watching discreetly from nearby. Shaking his head — indicating an 'N.G.' to his leader — the Latino operative snapped the Rosary beads and dropped the rounded pebbles on the ground. The bobos that he wore trampled it to the dirt before walking away.