I asked our host the direction of a bathroom I could use and excused myself. Once inside, I closed the door and locked it. There were four cabinet doors, two drawers, and a mirror that swiveled open, only revealing toothbrushes, toothpaste, and various ointments. Next I drew open the cabinet drawers. Toilet paper rolls, spare shampoo, tissue boxes, tazor blades, more toilet paper rolls, tampons, a first aid kit, some white bottles, took a look, just vitamins, shut the doors. The drawers yielded similar results.
I closed the cabinets, drawers, and shut the swiveling mirror door. I flushed the toilet once and opened the door. There was more hunting to do.
Every family in America takes prescription drugs. Typically if they are used sparsely as only in time of illness they're kept in bathrooms - and those taken regularly, for on-going need are kept in the kitchen - perhaps to associate with mealtime. Some people, like me, keep them by their bedside tables for reasons of privacy and because I take drugs as part of daily routine.
The living room was unique in that it had three passageways. One was the front door. The right door led to the hallway with the bathroom I rummaged through, and the left door was shared with the kitchen. The design was ingenious in that it allowed me to circle around the living room, around the band enclosed within the shut doors - to the kitchen. I made a mental note that the mother was in her study in the hallway adjacent to the bathroom.
Here I would open the cabinets one by one - taking a quick peek inside then quickly shutting it. To anyone else, I was looking for a glass.
Medicine cabinets are almost always kept above a counter top, never in a pantry. Why? I don't know. I guess it makes it easier to crush up Adderall XR to spike your schoolboy's applesauce. Seriously, Shire Pharmaceuticals recommends this method with which to dose your youngsters who cannot yet swallow pills. Sickening.
Aha! Above the sink were an assortment of orange bottles. This is it. This was it. Now one-by-one, I'd rotate the bottle toward me to check the active ingredient or brand name. Let's see...atenolol, Wellbutrin, generic Lipitor, lactase pills,...Zolpidem...nah, not today. Cymbalta, propranolol, amoxicillin, yuck...and..!
The door opens. It's our host. I pulled my hand out of the cabinet, leaving it ajar, my idle hand nestled behind the fridge.
-Are you...do you need something?- he said.
-I was just gonna help myself to a glass of water- I replied, surprised at my artfulness.
-Oh, no. Cups are on the other side- He opened the cabinet nearest to him and pointed to the glasses.
-Thanks. I'll see you guys back there in a second, my throat got kinda itchy-
-Alright.
I'm a suspect but he has no evidence. I drink the water cautiously as he pours himself some soda and leaves.
Last bottle...it reads "substituted for Clonazepam." I don't believe it at first and reread it, thinking I read Clonidine, which would be useless, at least without hypertension. Name check...Chaz Shalom. Hah, I guess Big Daddy Jew has panic attacks? I check names to make sure I'm not taking drugs from the terminally ill. I mean, I guess I wouldn't know...I didn't se ea comatose grandma lying in the living room between the drums and the amp. Perhaps its one of those actions we do automatically that at first we think are good, but once analyzed and questioned, seem without much meaning, other than good intentions.
So Chaz was holding his soothing pills captive in amber cells...and this was a prison break. I liberated four yellow gentlemen from their cell nad closed the door quickly before the guards could see me. Performed a quick patrol of the corridor and got ready to initiate phase two. Once again, four more prisoners were rescued. Unfortunately, some had to be left behind. I could tell our bailiff wouldn't be taking headcounts any time soon, but if he know that more than half of his captives had escaped, there'd be hell to pay.
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