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determination, he drops it to the floor. Quickly, he twists the smoke detector free of its base and unplugs its terminal. He pops out the nine volt battery and puts it to his tongue. It gives off no charge.
    Damn it, maybe it’s not getting power.
    He places the smoke detector on the counter beside his feet and then grabs the dangling wires that are hanging out the base plate in the ceiling. With his other hand, he yanks at the terminal on the end of wires, trying to pull it completely off. He grunts as he struggles.
    “Oh, dear,” complains from the hallway.
    The terminal pops off and drops to the floor.
    “What is going on in there?”
    Ignoring the question, he looks at the three wires he has just exposed. He takes the bare tip of the red and taps it against the black. Sparks. The detector should have been getting power. Bending down, he picks up the detector off the sink. He wraps the black wire around the far right prong on the detector’s plug and then he shoves the red onto the other side. Lastly, he touches the green wire in the middle.
    Crouching atop the sink again, he grabs a wad of toilet paper from the roll in the holder attached to the side of the counter. Then he grabs the unused lump of steel wool. Using the battery, he makes it spark again. The toilet paper catches fire quickly, and he stands with it pressed against the grill of the detector.
    A faint, annoying hum is all he can hear from the unit.
    “There is definitely smoke coming from in there; you need to come out right now—this is unacceptable…”
    “Calm down, Doris, he’ll be done in a minute. We could just go use the bathrooms up front.”
    “Use the front bathrooms afet paperhose children have been in and out of there? No, I don’t think so. Don’t you smell that smoke, Stacey?”
    “Whatever it is, he’ll be out in a second. No one’s going to burn the building down with themself locked in a bathroom. Don’t get so excited.”
    “Is that the advice that you gave your Tabitha before she went on tonight? Lord knows she could’ve used some more energy.”
    “Now, wait one minute, Doris, I’ve listened to you brag about your spoiled brat of a son all night, and if you think I’m going to let you be a big old bit—”
    The door swings open. Dark smoke comes out of the small room. Female faces crinkle at its presence.
    “See, Doris,” she says pointing a professionally painted and manicured fingernail less than an inch from his face, “I told you he was smoking. Smoking in a grammar school.”
    His face is emotionless, and his eyes are watery as he responds, “This is the gym, ma’am, and I was putting out an electrical fire.”
    “An electrical fire? Did you put it out with water?”
    “No, water’s a conductor; don’t use it on electrical fires. You smother it.”
    Angrier than before, Doris continues, “That’s it; I’m getting the principal and some of the fathers. I don’t know what you were up to in that bathroom, but you can’t leave it all smoky. I’m going to get…”
    “Get anyone you want, lady. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
    He makes his way into the gym with her on his heels, her knees pressed tightly together and screaming loudly for someone to do something about the exiting man and the smoke in the bathroom. He continues to walk into the lobby and out the doors without anyone approaching him.      
     

     
    In his car, his mind circles around the same thoughts, while he struggles to keep his vision focused on the road.
    The hat should’ve been easy enough. What are the odds of a fire alarm not working in a school? Don’t they have fire drills every month or so to make sure the system works? Maybe that’s just to scare the hell out of the children…I’m trapped…this is it…I can’t change anything…steal a hat, a drink squirts on the floor…children knock the garbage can over—what are the odds? Couldn’t even use that in one of my TV scripts—would’ve been called a hack, too