When the water began seeping under the door, Jack knew he was in trouble. He tried the door again, more forcefully this time, but to no avail. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He turned and looked around the dim room, searching for
any thing to get him out of this predicament. A screwdriver, an axe, something absorbent, plastic bags? Anything! He pushed aside boxes and old furniture in his search. That’s how he uncovered the tiny window high up in the wall. But could he get up there and fit through it?
All of a sudden he remembered his secret superpower: being able to transform all of his bodily mass into gravity-defying goo. The perfect way to get to the window near the ceiling. So, in his goo-like form, he started crawling his way up the wall, leaving behind slimy traces.
Then he crawled his way out the window and morphed back into human form. The roof provided an excellent vantage point — he just needed to make sure no one could see him. No matter, he could turn into clear slime at any time. And that’s just what he did. He readied his sniper.
A car came rolling in from the distance. Target acquired. He took a deep breath, pulled the trigger… and missed. No big deal, he thought. He took the shot again. Miss. That has to be the worst assassin in human history. Third time’s the charm… and it was a collateral. He ran off.
12 later I found him drinking Scotch & sodas at a bar called "Jimmy's Blitz" in Marengo, Illinois. Every time he finished his drink he'd plunk a quarter in the jukebox & play King Crimson's "Three Of A Perfect Pair". He sang along badly, then ordered another drink. I let him be.