"Why do you ask?"
"'Cause that's how I got out onto the roof."
"Oh, shit," he says.
"It's our secret," I say. "I can tell them I don't know how I got out. I'm incompetent, remember?"
"You're a good egg, Art," he says. "How the hell are we going to get you out of here?"
"Hey what?"
"No, really. There's no good reason for you to be here, right? You're occupying valuable bed space."
"Well, I appreciate the sentiment, but I have a feeling that as soon as you turn me loose, I'm gonna be doped up to the tits for a good long while."
He grimaces. "Right, right. They like their meds. Are your parents alive?"
"What? No, they're both dead."