Stir Crazy

“Escaping the sanatorium’s easy: just chat up that keen nurse about the foxtrot, ease her into unlocking a door with a smile and then it’s a matter of lazy guards and an empty hallway. You’ll be out on a bash before nightfall.”

(photo credit: wikipedia commons)

“Avocado.”

As soon as Ryan whispered it, I asked for the bathroom. Seventy push-ups later, I came out sweaty and red.

“Crohn’s,” I explained.

The racist host handed us our coats. Ryan’s other coworkers waved from the couch.

“Perfect. Just like we practiced.”