By the time I saw him again, I had tried numerous manoeuvrers to get more comfortable. I tried several times to climb up the chalk line, bracing my feet on the wall like a rock climber. I finally got to the nail, and hoisted myself up onto it, but it didn't provide the comfort I expected. I had to constantly shift my balance as I sat on it, either sideways, or with my back to the wall, and the nail sticking out between my legs. I thought of cutting the line with my pliers, but what then? Finally I needed a change from nail squatting, and lowered myself back down to hang and wait.
I was greatly relieved when I saw Frank again. He came over and bent down so he was eye level with me, and I shouted, "Please! Let me down from here!" He lifted the rope above me, and picked it up pretty far - I thought so he could cut it, but then he let it go, and I found myself slamming into the wall. I screamed.
"Oh sorry," he said without much conviction, and then came around to the side, filled his lungs with air, and started blowing on me.
"Whoa," I shouted as I flew into the air, and tried to brace my feet on the wall to get some leverage.
"Get yer fucking feet off the wall or I'll smash you against it." Needless to say, I obeyed. He blew at me again, and I swung back and forth, twisting on the chalk line. Then he batted me back and forth between his hands, and tried my best to keep curled up so as to get hurt least.
Finally, he was bored, picked up his gear, and said, "So long, shrimp, maybe they'll find you tomorrow."
"Wait," I pleaded, "Please don't leave me here, please take me down; take me with you, please!"
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