"Hey, you, old man."
          "Fuck off," Greg snarled at group of approaching teenage boys. He was still sitting on the bench near the beach.
          "I only wanna know the fucking time," snapped one of the boys.
          "It’s time for you to be home with mommy and daddy," Greg sarced.
          "Gee, you think your funny don't ya?" scorned the same boy.
          "I don't think, I know," Greg mused.
          "Maybe we should kick your wrinkled butt back to the home you crawled out of," the boy sneered, leaning in close to Greg.
          "You can try, but I might accidentally hurt you," Greg smiled.
          "Oh I'm so scared," the boy jeered.
          Greg broadened his smile to a grin and then lifted his cane, sharply between the boy's legs. The boy let out a peep, his knees buckled and he fell to the ground. Greg got to his feet.
          "I might be old, but by Jesus I'm quick." He winked and shuffled off, leaving the teenage boys in shock.

          "What's that one?" Ryan asked pointing to a tattoo on the man's forearm.
          "That name of some guy I killed," the man grunted.
          "Oh, really…was he your first?" Ryan perked.
          "Yeah," the man mumbled.
          "I've only got one tattoo, it's on my ass. Apparently it's got something to do with micro chipping, like they do with pets," Ryan smiled.
          "You're mental," the man grumbled.
          "Sure am, two years to the day that, they decided I was safe to be let back into the community," Ryan chided.
          The man eyed Ryan curiously, trying to tell if this strange old man was lying or not. He concluded he wasn't. The man got to his feet and banged on the door. An officer quickly appeared.
          "What is it Matteson," he grumbled.
          "I don't wanna be locked up with this psycho anymore," Matteson babbled.
          "Psycho? Him? He's 94 years old! You're a 15 times murderer with cannibalistic instincts," gasped the officer and slammed the door shut.
          Matteson looked back at Ryan who waved. "Looks like we're stuck together."

          "I can't believe they took my wi…tou…hair replacement garment," Jeff huffed.
          "My heart bleeds," Colin sarced.
          "And I need to pee," Jeff continued.
          "So pee, I don't care," Colin grumbled.
          "I get stage fright," Jeff mumbled.
          "It's no different to using a public urinal," Colin stated.
          Jeff looked at him meekly.
          "You have used a…were you not held enough as a child?" Colin sighed.
          Jeff looked dejectedly at the floor and then suddenly excitedly at Colin. "We should try to escape."
          "Oh and how do suppose we do that?" Colin hissed.
          "We could dig a tunnel," Jeff exclaimed.
          "I can't change pants without getting out of breath, how do you expect me to dig," Colin grumbled.
          "Ok, distract the guard and make a run for it," Jeff suggested.
          "Run?" Colin queried.
          "Well have you got any better suggestions?" Jeff huffed.
          "Yes, we wait until we get released," Colin replied.
          "I can't wait to pee that long," Jeff said through clenched false teeth.
          "What if I was to name some watery objects? Would that help?" Colin mused.
          "No, don't you dare," Jeff gasped.
          "Niagara Falls…The Great Lakes… A running tap…sprinklers…rain…a nice cold glass of water…" Colin jeered.
          "LET ME OUT," Jeff screamed as he tried desperately to open the door.

          "I think I'm claustrophobic," Drew grumbled, his head in his hands.
          "Not with that amount of body fat you're not," Chip huffed.
          "What?" Drew spat, looking in Chip's direction like he was a stubbie short of a six-pack.
          "No, I don't find it hot," Chip sighed.
          "I SAID WHAT," Drew yelled.
          "NO I DON'T," Chip yelled back.
          Drew wished he could have given Chip daggers but, instead chose to 'accidentally' poke him with his cane.
          "STOP THAT YOU BASTARD," Chip yelled.
          "YOU DON'T NEED TO YELL AT ME, I CAN HEAR YOU MORON," Drew yelled back.
          "KEEP IT DOWN IN THERE," hissed an officer from outside.
          "WELL IT’S NOT MY FAULT YOU PUT ME WITH THE DEAF GUY," Drew bellowed at the officer.
          "YEAH," Chip added.
          "Hey, did you hear me?" Drew asked.
          "Yes, I could do with a cup of tea," Chip perked.
          "Greg better bail us out soon, bastard," Drew mumbled.
          "I agree," Chip grumbled.
          Drew looked at what he hoped was Chip curiously.

          "Mr Sherwood," an officer announced, poking his head around the door of Brad's cell. "A care worker has come to collect you, you're free to go..
          "Oh man, a care worker," Brad scorned.
          He got to his feet and was led to where an annoyed looking care worker was standing cross-armed.
          "Mr Sherwood, how many times have I told you," hissed the care worker.
          "I didn't ask you to bail me," Brad spat.
          "I brought you some clothes, put them on," she demanded.
          Brad reluctantly pulled on the navy blue tracksuit she had brought him and then followed her out.
          "Now we're going straight back and you are not to leave your room," the care worker snapped.
          "But it’s my birthday," Brad sulked.
          "I don't care," the care worker scorned as she unlocked the car.
          "Oh, I've just remembered…I've forgotten my hat. You couldn't pop back in and grab it for me, could you?" Brad asked.
          The care worker looked at him suspiciously and then headed back toward the station. When she was out of sight Brad leapt into the driver seat and put his foot down.
          "No one tells me how to spend my birthday," he cackled.