Help, I Am Being Held Prisoner

47

WE WERE CROSSING THE YARD, me in the lead and Stoon behind me, when we met some new fish coming the other way, still in their free-world clothing. I was passing them, head down, brooding about my own troubles, when I suddenly noticed that one of them was Peter Corse! “Peter!” I cried, and stopped so suddenly that Stoon walked into me.

Peter gave a great toothless smile and boomed out, “Harry, how are you! I told you I’d be back!”

“Move along,” Stoon told me, and gave me a small shove.

I moved, but shouted back over my shoulder to Peter, “How did you do it?”

He too was being forced to move along. He cupped his hands and yelled, “I crapped in a graveyard!”

There’s hope, I thought, there’s hope for us all. If Peter Corse can get back in here, I too can surmount my difficulties. After all, I have all my teeth.

Yes, and half of his.