Brad screeched the wheels as he hurriedly turned the corner into the car park of the home. He switched off the engine, locked the car and shuffled into the foyer. He was surprised to find it devoid of any staff and figured the woman who'd come to collect him hadn't called in yet. Brad was about the nip off to his room when the phone rang and seeing as no one was around he took the liberty to answer it.
"Hello, Anderson's Aged Care Facility."
"Good evening the is the Ventura County Police, we believe we have several of your residents in custody, a Misters Carey, Esten, Davis, a Les Miserables and a Captain Billy."
"Yes, yes they're residents of ours."
"Would you send someone to retrieve them…please."
"Certainly, we'll be there as soon as we can," Brad gushed and then hung up the phone. He looked around to make sure no one was watching before shuffling down the corridor and into Wayne's room.
Wayne was fast asleep and snoring loudly. Brad looked around for a means of waking him and chose a vase of flowers. He removed the flowers and lay them on the sideboard before dumping the dirty vase water over Wayne. Wayne let out a gag and sat bolt upright.
"What the hell," he gasped.
"Shh," Brad whispered. "We have to go."
"Go where?" Wayne replied in a hushed voice.
"Ventura," Brad grinned.
"VENTURA?" Wayne shrieked.
Brad covered Wayne's mouth with his hand. "The others have been thrown in the slammer…we have to bust them out."
Wayne pulled Brad's hand off his mouth. "Are you crazy."
"You know I am," Brad hissed.
"I'm not going to Ventura with you," Wayne scorned.
"Come on Wayne, don't be so gutless," Brad begged.
Wayne narrowed his eyes at Brad. "I'm not even dressed."
"So, I plan to take this track suit off as soon as we hit the road," Brad shrugged.
Wayne rolled his eyes. "Ok, ok…pass me my robe."
The cell door opened and Jeff shuffled in, sporting a pair of brown corduroy pants. He glared at Colin who was lying on the only bed.
"This is your fault," Jeff huffed.
"Your weak bladder has nothing to do with me," Colin scorned. "Nor is your charming taste in fashion."
"It's all they had that fit…move your ass," he added.
Colin’s bones made an orchestra of noise as he sat up. "Well at least you got to pee."
"You know what's even more embarrassing?" Jeff spat.
"Having a bow tie put round your penis?" Colin asked.
Jeff looked at Colin strangely and was tempted to question him. "No…They made me wear a grandpa diaper."
Colin let out a hefty laugh and his teeth flew across the cell and landed in the toilet.
"NOOOOO," Colin screamed and struggled to his feet.
Jeff let out a snigger. "Can't wait to watch you put them back in."
"Very funny Mr Diaper…come and help me fish them out. You know I can't bend at the knees anymore," Colin scowled.
"…And then I met my Mer-Wife, she's lovely thing…Great scales…and when she goes off…" Ryan was silenced by Matteson banging on the cell door.
The door clunked open and the same officer appeared. "What now Matteson?"
"I did it ok, I killed the whole gang…Let's go back to the interview room and I'll tell you whatever you want…JUST GET ME AWAY FROM THIS PSYCHO," Matteson begged.
The officer let out a heavy sigh. "Fine, come on…I'll get Sargent Lipschitz."
Matteson followed obediently and the door was slammed shut again. Ryan turned to the now empty cell.
"So, the wife and I, the mer-wife that is. We had kids, although I reckon the bitch was having an affair…How can my first born have eight tentacles…I only have six…"
"I'm bored," Drew sighed.
"WHAT? Chip yelled.
"BORED…I'M BORED," Drew replied.
"LET'S DO SOMETHING THEN," Chip suggested.
"SURE…but what…oh, oh I know…LET'S PLAY I SPY" Drew perked.
Chip nodded.
"I SPY WITH MY LITTLE EYE SOMETHING BEGINNING WITH…’C’," Drew began.
"I CAN'T SEE A BEACH," Chip hissed.
"NO ‘C’ THE LETTER ‘C’," Drew snapped.
"THERE ISN'T ANY SNOW EITHER," Chip scorned.
"What?" Drew muttered. "Oh…I SAID ‘C’ AS IN CAT, CANDLE AND CUBA."
"I CAN'T SEE A HAT, SANDAL OR A TUBA," Chip huffed.
"I give up," Drew hissed.
"WHAT?" Chip asked.
"I GIVE UP YOU MORON," Drew yelled.
"Oh…right," Chip mumbled. "CANE."
"WHAT?" Drew queried.
"CANE…THE ANSWER IS CANE," Chip perked.
Drew closed his eyes and counted back from ten.
Greg hobbled into a nearby bar and was greeted by the jeers and jibes of its younger patrons. Greg was tempted to tell the lot of them to "Fuck off" but instead ordered a large whiskey and glared at the room.
"On your own?" asked the barman.
"No, I'm waiting on Claudia Schiffer," Greg sarced.
"Which home are you from? I'll call them," the barman sighed.
"No need, I'm on my way to visit some friends," Greg mused.
"And where are they?" asked the barman.
"Jail," Greg grinned, sculled the rest of his drink and slammed the glass back down. He turned around and headed out of the bar, making sure to "accidentally" smack several rude patrons in the head with his cane.
He was still chuckling to himself when he shuffled back into the street, his aim was to find a cab but instead in ran straight into his least favorite care worker, "Cheryl the Nazi."
"Oh shit," he mumbled as she narrowed her eyes.
"Brad will you keep your hands on the wheel," Wayne gasped as Brad fiddled with his tracksuit pants.
"I will, soon as I get these off," Brad replied panting.
Wayne watched, as the car swerved dangerously close to traffic, in fact it was a little too close for comfort. Wayne thrust himself at wheel and steered the car straight, narrowly missing a large truck.
"Thanks," Brad perked.
"I don't know why I let you talk me into this," Wayne huffed.
"It'll be fun…the guys will be so pleased we busted them out," Brad grinned.
"And just how to you plan to bust them out?" Wayne asked, crossing his arms and focusing his attention out the window.
"Dynamite," Brad enthused.
Wayne turned shocked to Brad. "Dynamite?" he peeped.