The next morning dawned on a new band member (self-appointed & ex ophicio). But Monkey needed a musician's shirt. Luckily he owned a blue t-shirt and finger paints, so he made one before going to the Jazz Jubilee.

Opice was very proud putting on that shirt.

"Wait till the band sees me!" he congratulated himself looking in the mirror. But no matter how hard or fast he tried to admire his back in the mirror--he couldn't. Which was just as well considering how most cellmates' backsides look.

Meanwhile, back at the mirror, The Plush One was telling himself, "I'm going to make this the best Ophir ever. In fact, I'm going to let every prizner buy me a beer."

We're LIVE! in the Firehouse Lot

The conductor told a good joke and the audience cheered as Monkey took his seat atop the stage speaker. Oh, and he took one of The Chief's maracas.

Opice thought, I hope the next (beer) song will be Smetana's symphonic poem, "My Country," because this would be the first time ever it gets played on the maraca.

Monkey was already thinking like an Ophir Prison Band Martial. Muff had warned him that even the musicians are surprised by the stuff they're ordered to perform (not to mention where and when and for what, e.g. Free again?!)

Of course the next (beer) selection wasn't by Smetana, it was Dough-Ray-Me from The Sound of Music... sorta. Opice's maraca playing added a lot to it. That's why the band's Chief organizer asked for his maraca back. An argument ensued. A compromise was reached.

"I've been crowned a bird of a feather."

Chief reminded him, Only until the end of the next song. That was our agreement. Then I get my headdress back.

Monkey's not usually an Indian Getter, but this time he gave it back. [For all you overly PC types, that's a jab at the ethnic slur. Get over it!]

A thought came into his head, Beeeeeeer.
Not Muff's head you crazy reader, Monkeys!

Here's what Opice thought: I have to show Muff my band uniform. So Monkey planted himself in front of his fellow saxist.

Conceptually this plan was fine, but the execution flawed. Guess what happened next?

There's something you should know about Ophir Prison Band Inmates. They wear their show-biz names on their backs. But how they get those names is a secret. No one knows why Opice's sexophonist friend is called "Muff," but one theory suggests it's a contraction for "Stud Muffin." Duck stuff! yells Captain Jimmy.

Monkey corrects, "It's not a noun. It's a verb like huff or puff. It means to blow it. Like Muff does on the horn."

It's been a great Jubilee. Monkey's had more fun than's decent. Or was that more beer than's decent?  Both.

In a moment of drunken honesty he confides to his friends that he's been offered a position in BED with Fast Eddie.

Look how shocked the musicians are hearing Opice might leave.

You disloyal in(pri)mate! shouts Muff grabbing him by the collar.

Picture detail: expanded for 1k words.

The guy above offers Muff a deal for the monkey-meat that sounds too good to be true. Whom should Muff trust, SpamMan or Monkey?
['2 choices - both wrong]

Ofir Prizn escAPEe Pilgrimage

Monkey found the town on a map and told Karel (the Czech foreign Xchange Kid), "I'll take you there. It must be full of music 24/6½."

That confused Karel until Opice explained the English American slang, "24 means all day as in 24 hours per and 6½ means of a 7 day week, half a day is set aside for music while six-and-a-half days are dedicated to beer.

(Click the sign to go downtown. Yes, we mean it.)