My Big Bust-Out Always Gets Busted

Curses- Foiled again!

I was caught, out-witted, and busted! Another super-slick con caper nipped in the bud by our ever vigilant master whose superlative intellect devised successful precautionary measures against malcontents such as myself who try to take unauthorized leaves from this camp. Project Launch was de-launched.

Like, man- dig- here’s the way it came down:

The good chaplain had just passed out X-mas cards. Gave us a good supply, too. Three or four packs each with a rubber band around each pack. Well, I had just settled back and started counting (not the cards, dumb-dumb, -the rubber bands), when it happened… The Bust!

Hell, he comes back and before I know it he’s demanding the rubber bands back. Well he caught me by surprise with the evidence spread out on the brick, so what could I do but surrender then? I am, after all, basically a peaceful person. Of course he went down there and got all of them, but in time maybe I can think of something else.

I do wonder how they figured out the plot, though. It’s a mystery. I thought I had a winner… Just save 5,124 rubber bands, wrap them around the bars, bend them out, and launch PROJECT LAUNCH. I simply climb into the rubber band sling shot, my pals bend it back and launch me 220 yards through the air in a perfect parabolic arc- over the fences to freedom!

(Maybe they even figured out that was the reason I went down to less than 125 pounds on the hunger strike.)

But Fearless Fordick (?) got me again. And this time in disguise as a chaplain. I’m learning, though: If I see any fat S.O.B. tappy-toeing down the tree on Christmas eve wearing a long white beard- he’s in trouble.

-Phillip Carl Jablonski

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