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Mark Wilson didn't understand why he had been
put into the Hayward Nursing Home. He was only thirty-some years
old, so what was he doing playing shuffleboard with old Mrs. Kaliddleman?
He didn't really have an answer but he suspected that it something to do
with the fact that he liked rutabagas.
Mark liked the nursing home. He always
won at shuffleboard, Bingo night was always fun, and Geritol wasn't that
bad. But for some reason, Mark wasn't satisfied. He was secretly
contriving an escape plan. Every night at 8:30 PM, when everyone
else was long asleep, Mark would turn on the light and blueprint his escape
plan. Then he would hide them with his Boy's Life magazines
in the closet.
Finally one dark August night, Mark knew
that the time was right to set his plan into action. Mark gathered
his belongings into a large paper sack and quietly sneaked out of his room.
He sneaked past the nurses' station towards the front door. Now Mark
had to get past the watchman at the door. He got ready to set Plan
A into motion. He was almost out when the floor creaked tellingly.
The watchman spun around and spotted Mark. "Why Mark Wilson!
What are you trying to do?" exclaimed the watchman.
"Uh...hello Mr. Krumski! Imagine
seeing you here. I wasn't trying to do anything."
"Sure you weren't. You always go
sneaking around the nursing home in the middle of the night! All
right Mark, let's take you back to your room and we can talk all about
what you weren't trying to do, " said Mr. Krumski. Mark decided to
try Plan B.
"Mr. Krumski, I'll give you my entire supply
of Geritol if you'll just forget that you ever saw me tonight and let me
go," Mark pleaded.
"Sorry Mark. Now why don't you come
along quietly to your room and I'll have one of the nurses give you a nice
long sponge bath," soothed Mr. Krumski.
"How about my Geritol and a bag of rutabagas?
They're very nice and fresh ones that I just bought..."
"No Mark. Come along back to your
room and I'll let you read this month's issue of Boy's Life," said
Krumski.
Mark was running out of things to bribe
Krumski with. "All right, I'll give you the Geritol, a bag of rutabagas,
and let you call the numbers for me on bingo night!" Mark bribed.
If Krumski didn't accept this bribe, Mark would have to resort to Plan
C.
"No Mark! Now come back to your room!"
Krumski turned around and started dragging Mark down the hall. Mark
reached into the brown paper sack for Plan C. Krumski slumped to
the floor as Mark hit him over the head with his bedpan.
Mark ran out of the door as fast as he
could to the waiting taxi. "Where to, mister?" asked the cabbie.
"The nearest airport and step on it!" said
Mark. He had to leave town before the people from the nursing home
could catch him and drag him back.
"The nearest airport is in Superior.
Are you sure that you wanna go all the way there? It's not going
to be cheap."
"Yes! Just drive there! I'm
in a hurry," said Mark. He would have to catch the first plane out
and lay low somewhere for a while.
When they got there, Mark paid the cabbie
a considerably large amount, and ran into the airport to buy tickets.
The next plane was headed to Minneapolis. From there, Mark could
get a ticket to anywhere. Mark purchased his ticket and went to wait
for the plane. Naturally, the plane was late.
Once he arrived at the Minneapolis airport,
he bought a ticket for Miami. Miami would be perfect. He'd
just be another retiree, although Mark still didn't know why everyone thought
that he was so old at age thirty-something.
Mark was having a lovely time in Miami.
He rented a nice house and mingled with the senior citizens. He played
shuffleboard, played Bingo, and ate plenty of fiber. He'd even gone
down to one of the nude beaches and looked around for a while.
But Mark was bored. After awhile
in warm, sunny Florida, Mark was homesick for less warm, not so sunny Wisconsin.
Every night at 8:30 PM, he turned on the
lights and started planning how he was going to break back into the nursing
home. It was his turn to call the numbers for Bingo.
The End
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