that on the second-to-last day of the job, the convict crew that tarred the plate-factory roof in the spring of '49... wound up sitting in a row at ten o'clock in the morning, drinking icy-cold, Bohemia-style beer... courtesy of the hardest screw that ever walked a turn at Shawshank State Prison.
Just there the barbarians huddle sheer terror gripping tight their hearts with icy fingers knowing full well what merciless horrors they suffered at the swords and spears of 300.