The walls drip with sweat and each breath of air I suck in grows more humid and rancid by the second. I wouldn't be surprised if I eventually drowned in here. I see no exits except for the way I came in but it's shut tight. I pound my fist on the wall and scream for help. "You're going to have to do a lot better than that," an outside voice booms. ****, I thought, how am I going to talk myself out of this one?
I examine the wall. It's covered in slime and goo and all manner of squelchy and unpleasant things. Now why did I do that? The smell is getting worse, and the temperature is starting to rise. I begin to sweat profusely, and I'm not sure if it's from the heat, the humidity, or the sheer terror wracking my bones.
Sorry, overslept I check the pockets of my correctional institute jumpsuit. Bright orange and obscenely itchy, it's two sizes too big with the number A001942 embroidered on my chest. In my pockets are three paperclips, about a meter of twine, a ball of a doughy substance, and a pencil with the lead broken off. Pounding on the wall again elicits no response other than a spatter of slime in my face. Woo. Wiping it off my face, I notice that water has begun to pool on the floor. It carries the stench of...Something. Imagine the worst smell ever, like your little brother when he was a baby. Now add skunks, rotting flesh, and Flo's cooking. That's perfume. Awesome. Not only am I trapped, I think, but I gotta deal with this smell?
>Examine each face of the room (again?), searching for any break in the surface (crack in the wall, door seam, water drain, etc.)
