Disclaimer : I don't own the "Cell Block Tango", Chicago, Liz, Annie, June, Katalin / Hunyak, Velma, Mona, Roxie... oh, y'all should know the rest!

A/N: I know there are several fics out there like this, but this will go in-depth. Not just why and how they commited the murder.

Pop, six, squish, uh-uh, Cicero, Lipschitz

He had it coming, he had it coming,

He only had himself to blame

If you'da been there

If you'da seen it,

I betcha you would have done the same!

You know how people have these little habits that get you down?

Liz didn't know where to start. She admitted to murdering Bernie. She confessed that it was her fault. She went to the mental institution. But I guess you should know her life and what led her to do this act first. Don't judge her yet.

Liz's POV

I had been born into a middle-class family in Chicago. My mother died when she gave birth to my youngest brother Mikael. Mikael had died, too. I might've only been eleven, but these memories still haunt me sometimes... I can see his eyes in my sleep. It scares me senseless. I can't describe them. However, back to things.

Once, my mother had died, Daddy left us. I later found out that he always spent his money and covered the loss up with a lame excuse. He was golddigging off of Mama. Then I thought Chicago was hell-bent. Oh no, that was just the start.

As I was the eldest, I felt most responsible to find shelter and a caring adult. This is when my one brother, Erik, started his habit. He was nervous as us five - Erik, Joanne, Eddie, me, and Sparky - were waiting on our doorstep. I had telephoned Grammy and she agreed to come here and get us. Give us good food. Talk to us. Tell us stories.

Take care of us.

During this short expanse of time, Erik had the habit of drumming his fingers, then tapping them. Later I figured out he went on to play a B-flat clarinet in the band that played music for the Kelly sisters.

I like Grammy's neighborhhood. It had funny little people in it. There, I briefly met Mama Morton, but she wasn't Mama then. Just a girl to me then. I had bumped into her, trying to grab Erik. She looked, then saw what I was doing. Then she gave me a tiny smile and walked off, after helping me grab Erik.

It was actually pretty rough later on. You see, Grammy never married after her husband never came back from war. And she was young for her status, but wasn't the healthiest. And now she is unfortunately deceased. So we moved into downtown Chicago, where all those sleazy jazz joints are. I was now sixteen, but I pretended to be an adult. I took them all into my apartment. I also had the sweetest neighbor. She had had been here a day or two before me, but I never figured this out from her. I didn't speak her language. I discovered this when she ran onto the balcony. I saw her with Mr. Whatshisname.

When I was twenty, I applied for a waitress in a fancy restaurant. I had gotten the job. After a year, I had gotten booted along with all the other seniors. Apparently the customers wanted little young sluts. Bleh.

Then Erik moved into his girlfriend's apartment. They later had gotten married... Now what's of them?

Joanne had the same deal... perfect girl.

Eddie turned out to have a chef spot. He became head of the restaurant I used to work at.

Then I met Bernie. It was in the sleazy jazz joint. I had spent most of my savings now getting in here. You see, this was before Velma arrived. I gotta nice voice, you know? So I performed a song or two every time I went, and I got money. And one night I went home with Bernie.

I don't know what fueled us. It wasn't love, or lust even. But I soon found myself dating him. Then he asked me to marry him. It wasn't anything big, but I was tipsy and I made the biggest mistake of my life accepting. A couple weeks after we'd gotten married, he started chewi- popping his gum. He had the habit like Erik.

Like Bernie. Bernie liked to chew gum. No not chew, pop.

I was so lucky that I could my job back. Apparently the little girls didn't like their job. Mr. Grintle (funny name if ya ask me) was hiring people back up. He was so shocked when I walked in, I stifled the urge to laugh. I was the only older waitress that returned, besides Gertrude. But she's the receptionist, and is probabaly booted now...

So I come home this one day, and I'm really irritated and looking for a little bit of symphany. And there's Bernie, laying on the couch, drinking a beer, and chewing, not not chewing, popping.

I had had a really bad day at work. First, Mr. Grintle claimed I was late, when I was several minutes early. Then I spilled coffee onto the lap of a very important person. Then a little girl came in. She gave Mr. Grintle that innocent, demoness smile. And then they walked off. So, I left a note. It had my scribbled minute writing on it. I QUIT! Yeah, again. Then I decided to lie to Bernie, say I was forcibly fired. Maybe he'd get pitiful, and I could get away with an easy night... how wrong I was.

As I walked home, I was completely delirious until the rain started pouring. Then I calmed down. At the final crossing, a stupid driver didn't stop. He hit me. Luckily my purse had thick enough to protect my ribs, as I escaped unharmed. A witness also called the police, and the man had gotten arrested... I think.

So, I finally arrived home. Bernie got home a few minutes after me usually, and he expected dinner fully ready. Stupid pig. And there he was, laying on the lumpy couch. He head would tilt back every minute of so for his beer. Then that bubble would pop.

"Lizzie, you're late!"


"Bernie, I got fired... ya need-"


"No, you need to Lizzie. You take my work for granted! Ya ain't nottin' but a slutty whore whose is probabaly screwing someone else!"


This had me shaking in anger.

"Thatsa lie, pig! One, I don't like Lizzie! Two, I work. Ya don't. Three, if I was doing someone, I betcha he'd be better than you!"


"And Bernie...

And I said to him, I said "You pop that gum one more time..." And he did.

"... you pop that gum again, I'll..."

He turned, couch cracking under his weight. He chewed on his wad of coloress gum. Then he blew he bubble...

I was so angry. He had the audacity to that again! The nerve! I turned around, pretending to go into the kitchen.


He turned back around and was sucked into his baseball game was more. He popped it again. I stopped right across from the mantle. I looked at my grandfather's shotgun. I had found it it a package on Grammy's doorstep when I made one last trip there. The note said that this was the only thing they found that was intact of him. So I mounted it over the fireplace.

And I grabbed the shotgun, ripping it away from the wall. I had stored a pack of cartridges behind it, just in case. I popped a couple into the barrel and cocked it...

So I took the shotgun and fired two warning shots...

Bernie turned his head, bubble ready to burst.



"Ya had your warning Bernie. And that's the last damn bubble!"

I pulled the trigger. Twice. He had actually gotten another bubble ready... and the first bullet went through is bubble, through his mouth, lodging itself into his throat. The second one burst his skull. And Bernie fell off the couch, blood oozing out of the wound. Dead.

Into his head.

I think old Mrs. Lariwae heard it. Haha. Ya hear my sarcasm? As the sirens were heard, and the people gathered, I pushed my way through the small crowd.

And you know what happened? They got me. My neighbor, the sweet woman, bless her, tried to explain to the cops before they went in. I don't understand Russian, or maybe it was Hungarian. Yes, we'll say Hungarian. Anyway, I saw her eyes fill with tears and terror as I was being dragged into the car. After the detectives and all them people saw my damage, they decided I had a lost state of mind. They stuck me into the Chicago Asylum. Well, that's what I called it. Mama Morton came into the place every once and a while, so I heard. It was true. Mama strut down the halls, and then my room. Then she stopped. And backtracked to my cell. Mama didn't seem to think I lost it, and she was escorted into my cell. She had shooed the guards away...

...and started talking.

To me.

I was esctastic. Someone to talk to who was sane. I confessed everything to her. And I stand proudly in her song. Her motto. I told her it. I called her a mother hen, taking care of everyone in her coop. Then I had laughed and asked the now infamous motto.

"So, basically, if you're good to you, Mama, you are good to the prisoners?"

"Yes," was her reply. I later found out Mama pulled some strings and convinced them I was sane, and she took me to Cook County Jail.

I was the first murderess. Sure, I wasn't the first female, but murderess, yes. They had had a special block set up for muderer / murderess crimes. And I had gotten the first girl bench. There is when I started scratching the choruses are the "Cell Block Tango". And my monologue. I wrote it down so anyone in the cell could see why.

He had it coming, he had it coming,

He had it coming all along.

If you'da been there,

If you'da heard it,

I betcah you would have done the same!

Third POV

The other captives would give Liz those awkward stares and she sung those lines out loud, and masteres the words with perfect expression. You see, then, Elizabeth Raven Darswan, became the very own mother of Cell Block E. The Murderess' Row.

She's always first to go in the "Tango", and last in to end her dance. She's most flexible. She's the one they have awe for. The one Mama appreciated...

There's the first installment in "Cell Block Stories"! I plan to have Chapter 2, "Six Wives+One Ezekiel Angry Annie" up in a week... if I get a review or two. NOT FLAMES! Actual reviews. Now, press that button! Even you 'anonymous' users!