The Other Escape from Alcatraz
"A fast paced tale of action and adventure."
Such sections are appropriately marked.
"O Father, Father, why have you forsaken me?"
With a cry of despair, I collapsed into a snivelling heap on the floor.
Mom pounded on the door. "Avery, you're quoting Bible passages
again! Stop it! And get off the floor! You'll mess up all your clothes!"
That was Mother for you. She was capable of considering Dad's horrible accident - the thought of that deadly animal makes me shudder to this very day - without emotion. I, on the other hand, was devastated.
The event had been shrouded in mystery. Besides the obvious question, "How on Earth did the sheep get high enough up in the air to do that?" several aspects of the dreadful episode didn't seem to make sense. For example, the sheep had never been found afterwards. In addition, the only traces of wool were found in my father's sweater, and while these traces were obviously important to the investigation, my distress was alleviated little by the discovery that it was a woolen sweater.
The sheep wasn't the only lost evidence. My father's dead body hadn't been located either. The only available clue, the aforementioned sweater, was located in an extensive search of my parents' bedroom closet.
In short, although I trusted the police implicitly, I definitely felt that there were reasons to keep an open mind about the investigation.
It was about this time that the mouse spoke.
"What's that, little mouse? My father has been kidnapped and is
being held captive in a foreign prison?"
The mouse appeared scared (after all, this was probably classified information) and left quickly via a strange hole in the wall that I had never noticed before.
This was certainly a surprise. However, it was a distinct shame that the mouse had made no mention of which foreign prison Dad was being held in, or even, sadly, which country the foreign prison was in.
It was time to stop and think about the evidence.
There he was! At last, I was reunited with my long-lost father! Once more, I could hear the sound of his scratchy voice! ...Scratchy voice?
Oh, silly me, wrong tower.
There he was again! Leaping with joy into his arms, I felt like screaming - so I did. Which reminds me of a bit of advice I wanted to share:
"Never make loud noises while trying to sneak people out of foreign prisons."
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