By Felon
At this point I had lost all track of time. Firefighters coming and going with 3 shifts a day. The room I had been placed in was somewhat soundproof, although I did notice the smell of food cooking from the club kitchen. Something was simmering on the stove. The room I was locked in was getting hot, and I tried to be near the door to get at least a draft of fresh air to cool things off.
At some point I heard the door being unlocked. It was Fire Chief Dan in a red jock and tee shirt holding a wet towel and a pair of red sweatpants. He was on his way to pick up Probie Dwight from his Nursing Home job. He threw the wet towel at me and slammed the door. I wonder if Probie Dwight had any idea of what was scheduled for the long weekend?