Supratentorial Dust Storms and Tumbleweeds

Free (#police)

Maurice shivered and wiggled his toes that poked through his threadbare socks. The moonlight streaming thought the bars of his prison cell illuminated the pale, hairy appendages. His sandals were in worse shape. He'd paced back and forth so long the soles were paper thin.

Maurice glanced again at the two beautiful women who shared his cell, hoping they were both deep in slumber. One had been dressed so elegantly from head to toe in white linen, but now it was ripped and stained dark brown. She mumbled something indignantly in her sleep about a holiday party that she'd never made it to after being captured and thrown unceremoniously and without explanation into this dank prison. The same fate had also met the other woman with long lovely locks of hair now tangled and matted. But she remained bedecked in so much gold jewelry it jingled when she shifted subtly in her sleep. 

He'd been confused himself when they had seized him in broad daylight on a busy tourist street. Without being given a cause for his incarceration, a lawyer or even a phone call in this strange land, Maurice had been fallen into deep despair.  But his spirits soared when his fellow cell mates had joined him. It was as if fortune had graced him one last wish–to share the remainder of his days with two lovely women. Maurice scoffed at the memory. How naive and full of fantasies he had been. Certain they were now asleep, he took the spoon our of the pocket of his worn shorts, removed the grate covering the air shaft and resumed his digging. Tonight he would break out of prison–alone.

The women were shallow, petty and complained non-stop. He'd hoped they would settle in, perhaps look upon him fondly if not fall in love with him. But the only thing worse than gorgeous women ignoring him his whole life was having two ignore him in a 10x10 cell. He'd had better conversations with the rats that milled about.

It had given Maurice time to think about why the three of them had been jailed, because the women were just as confused as Marcie about why they were there.

How many months passed, Maurice could no longer count. When he'd finally determined he might be able to dig a tunnel he'd considered confiding in the women. He could have used their help. But they were too self-centered and annoying. And they were a liability, because Maurice had finally figured out what crime they had all unwittingly committed. But even if they listened to him for a minute, they would never believe him, and thus they wouldn't last long even if they reached freedom.

Maurice crawled into the tunnel he had painstakingly carved, replacing the grate behind him. It didn't take him long to open the small hole that opened to clean, fresh air at the other end. He pulled himself out into a frigid night.

Despite the cold, he took off his sandals, removed his socks, and put the sandals back on. He couldn't risk being picked up by the fashion police again.