Free The Treatment and the Cure by Peter Kocan

made the inmates seem very dangerous, they pretend to shrug off the danger, to show what cool nerves of steel they have. They get danger money for working here, and if they didn’t make the inmates seem very dangerous they might not get the danger money. Nobody gets danger money for taming pussy cats. Still, the old files make you think that maybe it was pretty bad here in the old days and that maybe the screws who wrote those files weren’t exaggerating much.
    The toy repairing is nice work, once you get over the silly feeling.
    “Do we get paid for this?” Ray Hoad wants to know.
    “Your reward will be the rosy cheeks of smiling little tots,” says Bill Greene.
    “Frig the tots!” answers the Merry Dwarf.
    Hartley, the famous murderer, is fitting a red piece on a fire engine. The screws don’t usually like Hartley to leave the verandah area, but he’s been allowed to join the Merry Band. Ray Hoad and Bill Greene say he murders dolls when nobody’s looking.
    After a few weeks a man from the children’s charity comes to tell us how much our work is appreciated. He’s a short, tubby man. He appears in the doorway with Arthur. The charity man steps in cautiously as if he’s afraid someone will grab his throat. He stays close to Arthur.
    “Chaps,” Arthur says, “this is Mr Fleming from the charity.”
    We all stare at Mr Fleming. He’s trying to look all jolly, like a man representing thousands of happy children. He obviously has a little speech ready, but he can’t seem to get it out. It’s probably just dawned on him that he’s actually inside this place and face to face with seven Criminally Insane men who are staring intently at him and maybe aching to rip his gullet.
    His big grin keeps slipping off and he has to push it back up his chin.
    “Um, er, we just wanted to let you people know how grateful we are…” He trails off, as though suddenly wondering whether we understand normal English. He’s glancing uneasily around, perhaps thinking how there are only three screws here against seven of us.
    “You’re doing wonderful work here, er, um, chaps.” He isn’t too sure about calling us “chaps”. Calling us “chaps” might offend us. But Arthur had called us “chaps” so he thinks it must be all right. If Arthur had called us “Your Excellencies”. Mr Fleming would call us that too.
    “Er, well, that’s really about all I wanted to say,” says Mr Fleming. He looks at Arthur, wondering whether to go now.
    “Did you have something to give the chaps?” prompts Arthur gently, indicating something Mr Fleming has in his hand.
    “Oh yes!” Mr Fleming remembers. He has a little framed certificate. “Er, we at the charity wish to present you chaps with a token of our appreciation.” He goes to hold out the framed certificate to one of us, but isn’t sure who to offer it to. He takes a step toward Hartley but falters and steps back. Nobody moves. It’s a terrible moment for Mr Fleming. He’d probably imagined it differently. He’d probably imagined a jolly visit, with lots of back-slapping and himself making a confident little speech and someone stepping forward to shake his hand and then more back-slapping and applause. Now he’s standing here with his framed certificate held out in the empty air while seven silent madmen stare at him. The screws are enjoying it too.
    “Thanks very much,” you say to him.
    One of us has spoken! He’s so relieved, he goes to put out his hand to shake yours, but loses his nerve and lets it drop.
    “We’re glad to help the poor kiddies,” says Ray Hoad.
    “And the tiny tots,” says Bill Greene.
    “The dear little ones.”
    “The darlings.”
    Mr Fleming is beaming now and hopping about shaking hands with all of us, except Hartley. Hartley is wearing a grin like Dracula and Mr Fleming sort of bypasses his handshake, as though by an oversight. Ray Hoad and Bill Greene want to go on some more about the Darling Tots and the Wee Kiddies, but Arthur