A single
rule of conduct. The Fez was not especially graceful, strong, or
good in bed. That's an image that is
stylish but useless, another case of
Hollywood blowing bubble bath up your ass and calling it an herbal enema.
Mr Fist knew it and knew that
thefez knew it too, though not in the context of an agent.
thefez did not pick up on every clue, he did not execute all his maneuvers flawlessly, and in fact he was probably only
batting .500 in his decision making. But when the decision was made it was acted on with dedication and intensity that is rarely matched in this world. You see, all the calculating, conniving, and figuring of the greatest of minds and all the grace, strength, and speed of the sleekest of forms will get get you
nothing but applause and it sure as hell won't get you out of a hotel room with
a grocery bag full of narcotics, a pile of assorted travel-sized toiletries, and a red cape. Or maybe it would, but as was already mentioned, those were not attributes at his disposal.
When the timid knocking at the frame of the still-open door woke thefez he rolled onto his back and barked, "Did you get the rodents?'"
"Well, I... or rather they- I mean everything is closed by this time and I-"
"Fuck'em anyway"', said thefez as he rolled out of bed. "They smell like a migrant's work boots. You ever smell one of those things? I mean a chinchilla, not a migrant though migrants definitely have an odor to them as well. You get my pills?" He walked up to the door, snatched the grocery bag from the hands of the bellboy and replaced it with a one hundred dollar bill. "That's U.S. mint issue. Don't go wasting it on bingo."
There were footsteps in the stariwell, lots of them. thefez slammed the door, walked to the bathroom and shoveled all the complimentary toiletries into the shopping bag. He pulled a red cape out of the bag, fastened it around his neck, took a brief look around the room as if securing it in his mind, and re-opened the door. One shove put the bellboy (who was crying and confused by the sudden bang of the door and the bruise it left at the end of his nose) on his back. thefez walked over him and to the ladder that led to the roof. It wasn't until he had climbed out into the misty, grey, pre-dawn light that he noticed his eyesight was mostly restored. He still didn't know what the racket in the stairwell was. It may have been nothing. But efficiency demands a minimum of consideration, at least as far as thefez was concerned.
He walked across the flat roof at a steady pace.