One Month's Payed Vacation from Bentbrook

Have the once in a life time chance to feel like a criminal!

As advertised, you'll be alone, traveling, and on the exhilarating escape from the law. First, you'll be kidnapped and stuffed into an overcrowded car where your face will be masked and flattened against a back seat pane. Blind and alone, you'll feel industry tower high over, and you'll have the quickest route to getting that escapist robber feeling because your going to straight downtown to the mayor's own home! Tread lightly, and watch out, folks; the authorities will be breathing down your neck wherever you may rest your head. But this will feel friendly and out of your good judgment, because you'll feel it for the love of chase from here to the plains, to the backwoods, and if necessary on a desperate journey across the Pacific by ferry, pining for magical Tiki women and their infinite primitive mystery. Whether or not you're caught is up to you.

So be weary of authority that come in shapes, figures, and presences. Their welcome feels warm, but their absent minds only wish to strip you of your mask and send you out in the cold, and then your trip will be over. (And for those under the appropriate age of maturity: This feeling is temporary, your parents will welcome you upon your return.)

The glamorous life of the obsequious Al Capone is what you seek, and to make it straight to the top, you assume the role of impostor. You'll assume the thrilling odd job in which you're protecting the mayor in the big heated black car, day and night, for the whole month, watching the upper crust come and go while you scorn their frailty, or you'll assume the role of a heroin addict turned snitch in some dead end train stop town, wearing a wire when the deal goes down in the warehouse loft. The authorities chime in your ear while you try desperately to keep your fiancee out of the big house. What's worse, and yet more fun, the friends you've left behind have no chance to comfort you, so you have no choice but to assume the worst. In this case your parents are also out to get you, so hide each and every bit of drug you've so desperately conned your friends in scrounging. (Beware of when the therapist of the Sameritan company asks you if you believe in God. Look her straight in the eye and give a flim flammy answer.)

In a last scenario, you've found yourself in a quiet tourist ghost down deep at the bottom of countless land folds and ridges, stale slimey after-freezes of winter. The man who owns a gallery will attempt to rob you of your last cents because his antiques look so charming, and he hobbles and shakes his curly grey pile of hair about the dusty room, and you feel sorry for not buying anything. And the girls you find in the chocolate shop, one of them will fall in love with someone who seems like a friend. Remember your chance to escape dwindles with each connection!

Please join us on this all expenses payed trip and skirt your way across the midwest, shirk your responsibilties, stay alive from addiciton, and try and make it home without being caught.

(We are not responsible for lost personal items on your trip. At certain moments the authorities will feel it necessary to strip you of all of your homely resources. This includes mobile phones, watches, shoes, underwear, earrings, paraphanalia, and your book that we equip you with from the beginning of the trip: Learning to Live Again: A Guide to Recovery from Chemical Dependence. This is your ticket home!)