Sometimes, I think of ways to escape my horrible dead-end life. First, I’d fashion a shiv from a piece of a shattered dream. Then, I’d use it to stab an inner demon and make a break for it. I’d have to make it through the dark dreamscape of my own subconscious avoiding the flaming wreckage of my romantic life, but I’d be able to find shelter in the dim memories of my once-hopeful youth. Once I get to the border of physical and social awareness of the feelings of others I’d disguise myself in the physical habits of tranquility. Hopefully, once I do make it past the border, I’d be able to use my money to hire a plane to Europe or something.
When I wanted to escape from prison, first I went to the supermarket to get supplies: a microwavable burrito, salted butter, a bag of rubber bands, and a can of Dr Pepper. Then when I returned to my cell, I opened the Dr Pepper and drank it, since this prison is sponsored by Pepsi, and doesn’t carry Dr Pepper. Next I pulled off the tab off the can and used it to jimmy the lock. Once the lock was open, I snuck into the yard. I cut up the butter into thin, spreadable slabs and placed them in various places in the courtyard. Then, I shot a rubber band at the guard dog so he would chase me, and led the angry pooch into the area where I had laid the butter. I jumped over it, while he slipped, fell and slammed into the wall, knocking him unconscious. I then tiptoed over to the gate and offered the guard the burrito I had if he’d let me out. When he said no, I took the burrito’s wrapper and suffocated him and went out through the tunnel that I had been digging for months in the courtyard. It was great.
My plan is not getting captured in the first place. Hey, let’s have a race to see who reaches freedom first. Huh, I guess it’s me. Sing a pretty song, Jailbird. Fucking tweet tweet. Open air sure is nice.
Well, I guess I’d turn left. I mean, not immediately, you know, it would depend on the situation. This is an all-purpose escape plan, right? I mean, I figure at some point, after I slip out the window or drug the guard or whatever, I’m going to have to decide if I want to turn left, or if I want to go in a different direction. Well, I’m going to turn left. That’s my plan.
It’s not a plan so much as it is simple reflex at this point. I run at the window, shielding my face as I throw myself through the glass. Now fifty stories above street level, I know I have two to three seconds to catch the flagpole across the street with my grapple. Assuming that works, I’ll swing out around the Kane Building and smash through the twentieth floor window, startling a naked girl in the bath who immediately starts to scream. Here we go again!
I was lost on a deserted island. That’s why I decided to build a raft. Using my managing and marketing skills, I convinced some native monkeys to work for me as my shipbuilders for a mere two coconuts per hour. With this monkey labor force, I built a nice little Day Spa/Cantina establishment on the west side of the island where the fresh water waterfall plunges into the ocean. They also built a ship. They really did a great job, installing central air and monkey bamboo plumbing. Then, three days before the expected launch of S.S. Monkey Feet, I got word from a friendly hippo that the monkeys were trying to unionize for better wages. I was so outraged, I picked up a monkey wrench and beat all the monkeys to death. I hope I taught those monkeys a lesson: No unionizing on my island!
I’ll just head for the door and go. If the woman says anything, let her. After all, I’m the man of this house, and I can go play poker with the guys if I want to. I’ll lay down the law, and say: “Back off, woman! What I say, goes. Now get in the kitchen and have some cookies baked by the time I get back.” But poker night’s not till tomorrow anyway; tonight I promised we’d watch Sex and the City.
Take 200-300mg of powder heroin, depending on your body size, and place in a sterile spoon. Add a small amount of acid to dissolve the powder and then mix with distilled water, while heating with a small acetylene torch. Using a sterile cotton swab, filter the solution into a clean, unused syringe. Tap syringe and depress plunger until a drop of liquid forms on the tip of the needle. Find a vein (a tourniquet can make this easier) and clean the injection site with alcohol. Insert the needle into the injection site in the direction of the blood flow. Pull back the plunger until blood enters the syringe, then depress plunger all the way. Following that, knock out the guard, steal his keys, unlock your cell, and run.
I go to the fragrance counter and purchase a bottle of Calvin Klein cologne. Escape for Men cologne. That’s my plan.