Oz. That’s the name on the street for the Oswald Maximum Security Penitentiary. Oz is
retro. Oz is retribution. To punish a man, you separate him from society. Separate him from
himself. Cage him up with his own kind. Oz is hard times doing hard time.
Prisoner number 97N909 Andrew Whitfield aka Andrew the Skullsplitter. Convicted January
9, 2004 for numerous longboat violations including jumping over a shark. Sentence: 78
years. Up for parole in 50.
The Skullsplitter had finally gotten familiar with the layout of the prison and his new daily
schedule. He hadn’t been in prison for long, but was forced to adapt quickly. His name
preceded his arrival, so he was mostly left alone by the other inmates. He missed playing
drums, and was sure that his band missed him immensely (snicker). They would surely visit
him soon, or at least write if they got successful and went on a real tour (snickering to the
point of Ramen noodles coming out nostrils). Andrew overheard some people talking at
breakfast one day about some guy that got transferred here after he stole a car while on a 17
hour leave from a minimum-security prison. The Skullsplitter knew that there couldn’t be too
many people who fit that description, and had to meet this inmate. Perhaps they could start a
band and play at the annual prison talent show, Oz Fest.
Prisoner number 97S110 Varg Vikernes aka Count Grishnackh. Convicted October 28, 2003,
for armed robbery and failure to return to prison. Sentence 12 years in addition to his
remaining two. Up for parole in seven.
Andrew had just been told by a correctional officer that he was being transferred to a different
cell, which he would be sharing with the Count. He could not believe his luck. He was going
to be cellmates with someone who shared his taste in metal and could probable play Oz Fest
(pop sensation Dimmu Borgir was also rumored to be playing this year). He greeted his new
cellmate with excitement that was normally only exhibited by groupies. Varg was giving the
Skullsplitter his full attention when he talked about how he used to drum for Clad in Darkness
on the outside and let him finish talking before opening his mouth. “You have a purdy mouth”
was the first thing Varg said to the Skullsplitter. “I stabbed someone to death once. I think
you would also be fun to stab, but not in the same way. You’ll survive this stabbing, and I
wouldn’t even use a knife. Unless I got bored of the holes you have now and feel like making
a new one. Now let’s hit the showers, sweet pea.”
****
The troll squirmed, tied to the chair as Coy and John approached with the razor. The two
Clad guitarists were fed up with the troll. It was bad enough that his web presence and on-
stage banter had reached embarrassing levels of stupidity, but this was just too much. And
there was only one way to fix the situation. Neither guitarist really wanted to do the task, but
it was what had to be done. The troll screamed as the blade’s downward slash came towards
his jugular. His idiotic behavior could not be stopped, but he could at least do something about
that taliban beard he was growing. Not everyone can be blessed with Coy’s sexiness but
goddamn did that thing look hideous. Once the violent grooming was done, it was explained
that after the two-month hiatus, it was time to go out into the public eye again. Coy had
found yet another vocalist. This one would be different (maybe). This would be the guy that
stays with the band (just like Petrus and Asmodeus). This would be a survivor (doubtful).
The three prepared to practice the songs to audition the singer but they felt something was
different. Something didn’t sound right, but no one could put their finger on it.
****
As the weeks went by, Andrew’s misery kept increasing. He couldn’t take much more of
Varg’s abuse, and had to think of something to protect himself. He didn’t want to kill Varg,
as that would make his sentence even longer. He decided he’d get himself thrown in the hole
for a few days, at least there he’ll get a little time away and maybe think up a more permanent
solution. He also wanted to be able to plead insanity in case his doings led to court. He waited
until Varg was in the gym. He snuck up on him with a weight and beat him over the head
with it. When Varg was on the ground, the Skullsplitter decided to use his face as toilet, thus
securing his insanity plea. As soon as he was done guards rushed in and carried him off to
the hole, with Varg screaming threats of vengeance.
****
The string section and the potential vocalist Marilyn Filth the flesh eating ghoul were hanging
out in the practice space rehearsing for the upcoming Norwegian World Tour. Marilyn Filth
sounded pretty good, although the troll suspected he had the same animal stuck in his throat
Dani Filth did. Perhaps the two were related. He decided to do some extracting later with
some help from Coy. They asked Andrew for a count off and they realized that no sound was
coming from the drum set. They asked again and the drummer still defied them. The troll
walked over to smack the Skullsplitter and realized the drum set was covered in dust and
cobwebs and no one was playing it. He called the other members over and to show them
someone was missing and they were all baffled as to where Andrew was. After about 15
minutes of staring at the drum set dumbfounded, John remembered that Andrew was still in
prison. They entertained the idea of playing without a drummer, but John pointed out that the
troll plays out of time enough even with a drummer so they should probably bail him out of
jail. The band had no money, so John suggested they have a bake sale, which against better
judgment the band agreed to do.
****
The Skullsplitter was still in the hole. He was very bored in its darkness, but it was the only
place he was truly safe from the sodomistic (piss off, it is so a word... well, ok it’s not)
desires of Varg. He had lost track of time in that dark room. He didn’t know how many days
he had been in there... but he knew however long he was there it won’t be long enough. Soon
he would be out, and he failed to think of a solution to his problem. He could keep acting up
and getting thrown in the hole or maybe just stuck in solitary, but he didn’t want to get any
more time tacked on to his sentence and how to get in just the right amount of trouble was
eluding him. He heard footsteps in the hall, and then the key turn. The light blinded him as
the door opened, and he knew he would soon be in great peril...