<p>Or I guess I could just say ear since there is only the one , but I digress again.</p>
<p>Now it was my turn to duck for cover as he wound up and threw a roll of toilet paper in my direction, which, as it sailed through the air, began to unroll, giving the cat something to chase after.</p>
<p>“Wipe that grin off your face!” yelled the prison guard, leaving me to contemplate my escape with only a plate of spinach, metal tray and knowledge of how to wind a ball of string.</p>
<p>As the guard removed the tray and started to walk away, I realized that my throat felt tight, like an invisible claw was gripping my neck. As my breathing became labored, I wheezed at the guard, “Wwwwait! I’m having an allergic reaction to the fish! I need a doctor!” But the guard just snorted and continued her heartless retreat.</p>
<p>And that’s when I heard the faint scratching sound against the base of the cement block wall of my cell. I crouched down to listen, straining to hear the rhythmic scratching over the sound of the surf crashing against the rocks a thousand feet below.</p>
<p>As i looked at the water below, i felt something brush up against my legs.</p>
<p>First, I thought it was my long hair…</p>
<p>Or perhaps the swoosh of the long cape I once wore…</p>
<p>It was then I realized that all those drugs had affected by perceptions. I woke from my haze …</p>
<p>and I realized that writing my story when I was so mentally imbalanced was a bad idea and I started to knit instead.</p>
<p>just then the guard slipped a sandwich of ham, turkey, and Swiss cheese between batter-dipped grilled or fried bread through the bars. “What name give you to this concoction?” queried I.</p>
<p>“Club Melt,” he answered, followed by a sly smile and a wink. I said nothing as he loped off down the grey, half-lit hallway, whistling to himself.</p>
<p>I bit into the crisp surfaced but soft within batter-dipped grilled or fried bread and felt a sense of peace descend upon my spirit. The scratching started up again and I gave the cement block wall a good kick. Let whoever was on the other side get his own “Club Melt.”</p>
<p>But lo! my sense of peace was quickly halted by numerous loud gurgles and burps. I was quickly reminded of my GERD (gastro-esophageal reflux disease), a malady I’ve tried to battle for eons!</p>
<p>I stared at the shadows on the wall, wondering what they were.</p>
<p>It was the prison doctor, seeking legally unrepresented candidates for a new study on GERD. “Aha,” thought I, “this is my ticket out!”</p>
<p>Curiously, I was still hungry.
“Guess you can’t count on a Monte Cristo.”</p>
<p>[the name of both the aforementioned sandwich and similarly imprisoned character]</p>
<p>^^^(puase for applause; rorosen, too funny…
picking up the thread, we’re here:</p>
<p>
</p>
<p>Helpppp, I screamed. Let me out of my cave!!!</p>
<p>Then the scratching started up again from the next cell and this time I bent low to listen. “Who’s there?” I whispered against the cement blocks. No answer. “Who’s there?”</p>