During my days at Folsom, my cellmate Biff managed to pry open the window bars, allowing us sufficient space to squeeze out of our cells, freedom a mere thirty feet down. “Now all we need are some sheets,” he said.
“How many will we need?” I asked.
“I figure four at least.”
“God, you’re stupid,” I replied. “That’s not gonna be enough padding for us to jump onto.”
BILL
No comments:
Post a Comment