Last night we very nearly had an escapee in the prison of FullCup. It’s much like Alcatraz only much less impenetrable. We pretty much let the convicts here come and go at somewhat of a whim. Not entirely you understand. We do expect them to tell us where they’re going, why, for how long, and what purpose.
And since they can’t drive, and aren’t yet skilled in the art of hot-wiring cars, we’re good. There was one incident on a bright sunny day when the youngest convict decided she’d make a trip to Target with the Chief Jailer.
Only she failed to tell the bailiff, hot-footed it out the front door, grabbed her wheels (aka tricycle) and pedaled her way to freedom. If not for the other, older, more cautious convict, she would have gotten off scot free. Unfortunately for the short one, the big one had a big mouth and soon the bailiff had her back in the cell…solitary confinement for a time. I’m sure she got bread and water too. Maybe a little peanut butter. And jelly.
Since that day the escape attempts have been few. In fact, so few as to be nonexistent.
No, we run a tight ship here.
Until the Chief Jailer is at a meeting. Or work. Or somewhere other than our own version of Alcatraz.
And the Bailiff is asleep. Now when the bailiff sleeps, let’s just say she sleeps the sleep of the dead. She gets up early, works hard, falls into bed exhausted and is comatose until morning. When she starts it all over again.
Last night was no exception. But maybe you want just the facts.
Just the facts, ma’am, just the facts. Okay. You’ve got them.
Last night at approximately 10:50, (I would add a “pm” there but that would be a little redundant, now wouldn’t it?) the Chief Jailer was at work trying to get some things done. The Bailiff was in bed asleep. Like the dead. She wasn’t dead, but it was almost as if she could be. The older, wiser, more of a night-owl convict was just drifting off to sleep when she heard the younger prisoner moving around.
“No worries,” she thought, “She’s just using the bathroom.” But when she realized the prisoner was going in the opposite direction of the facilities, and was in fact rattling the front door knob, she got up to investigate.
The young prisoner managed to disarm the security system, and was in the process of unlocking the door when she was caught. The older convict asked what she was planning on doing.
“Well, the Bailiff said when I got done with what I was doing I was to go out and find her. I’m done, so I’m going to find her.”
The older, more confident, and need I say, awake, convict suggested she return to bed. The young convict agreed and headed to back to bed.
The shortest, furriest convict watched all this with a sinister, “You’re gonna get it” sheen in her eye from the young convicts bed.
The older one reset the alarm, and she too returned to bed. All was well.
I can’t say how glad I am that the old convict heard all of that. Who knows where the younger would have ended up.