As the day of my release approaches I contemplate my own conformity to this imprisonment. For, what are my crimes? What have I done to deserve such cruel treatment? I was unaware that being a more then adequate swimmer was such a crime. Perhaps the event coordinators should have posted signs at the beginning of the race with a notation like “Beware the award for winning this race is three quarters of a year in solitary confinement.” Although a bit wordy for a notice, I believe it would have at least given me, as well as the other competitors, some sense of caution.
Regarding my conformity to this penal structure, I have decided that I have one of two choices. I can either remain in my cell until instructed by the parole officer of my freedom or I can defy their organization and break free of these confines on my own terms. Neither of these options are to be considered light-heartedly, for, they could very well set to tone for my entire independence.
On the one hand the meetings between Mom and my parole officer have increased in frequency. Although, I am starting to suspect that the parole office is delaying my release. I’m not entirely sure if he is actively trying to keep me contained or if this delay is due to some form of clerical error. In either case my freedom is being deferred and I simply can not abide by such ineptitude.
On the other hand I can continue to force my way out of my cell. I seem to have found the weakest point in the structure of my confines and I am considering pushing against it until it deteriorates and then finally ruptures. There by releasing me from my fleshy prison. The issue is my actions have not gone unnoticed. I few spectators have made remarks regarding the movement of my prison walls. And although no action has been taken to fortify my structure I am not entirely sure that once free the security will let me go or attempt to cast me back in this penitentiary.
Ah, I had another revelation this past week and in fact it has to do with the security personnel of this prison. I had mentioned in a previous entry of this journal that I was being tormented by a hairy four-legged beast. It was not until recently that I realized that this aggressor was in fact a member of the security staff employed by Mom. At first I was unaware of it’s agenda perhaps folly to it’s clever disguise however as of late I have seen a direct correlation between my efforts to escape and it’s distance from my prison. It’s as if it intends to be on guard for my release. It has even taken to stationing herself outside of my cell while I slumber. I do not trust this beast. She is cunning!
Many preparations are being made for my release, including the establishment of a residence. It would appear that I am to dwell in a sort of experimental dormitory. As I will be the first tenant other then the landlords, it would appear that I am to test the abode’s potential and limitations. Mom and Dad have taken me to said domicile. And although I am unable to visually inspect it, due to my imprisonment, Mom and Dad have shown more then just subtle excitement at the facilities. I am told it is well furnished and that a master artisan has been employed to paint a mural in my honor. I hope said artist is capable of accepting constructive criticism for I will certainly be adding my own embellishments to the décor over time.
One final topic of discussion before I return to my performance of “99 Bottles of Milk on the Wall”; As I prepare for my release whether subdued by “the man” or on my own accord, there have been remarks of almost a comedic nature regarding the date of my release. Some have even heralded me as a form of soothsayer, claiming that I am knowingly sabotaging my own discharge because of the temperature of the environment outside of these walls. Some claim that I do not wish to be released because of the frigid atmosphere. While others claim that I am biding my time until my release coincidence with weather circumstances that will be least favorable to the parole board.
I say to you again as I have said before Climate control warfare is an ugly business and I for one will not be partaking of such an abomination. However should I be released into a less then adequate temperature, someone “pweese bwing me a blankie”. *Ahem* That is all.
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