Author’s Note - This is, of course, a work of fiction. Thank goodness. The object is a toothpick. As a warning, I will note that there is violence and cursing in this work!
He was a particularly disgusting man, oily, pale skin, a toothpick always dangling out of his mouth. Stains on his wife-beater tanktop. Tattoos decorated his shaved head with various violent symbols. Most people knew well enough that he was bad news just by looking at him. Shannon, however, had privileged knowledge. “The fuck is he doing over here?” she muttered, ducking behind a clothed table.
“I bet he thinks that goatee is cool,” she crawled for a while on all fours, taking time to peak at the man.
A chill ran down her spine when she thought about his arms. One bicep was about the size of her head. Nonetheless, Shannon couldn’t afford to be afraid. It would take clear thinking, precise movement and maybe a quick cover to escape the man…. and he was standing right behind her. He chuckled to himself as he kicked her, sending her sprawling onto the pavement.
“Shit!” she yelled. The busy pedestrians took an apprehensive, but brief, look at the drama unfolding. Taking a breath, she became quiet. She’d rather not attract attention to this matter. “Hey, Randy, what’s up?” Shannon drew up all of her available energy to smile. The gesture was more than hollow, it was a phantasm of passive-aggressive resentment.
‘Randy’ smirked, helping her to her feet. The civilians were not sure that she fell on accident, but they were afraid enough to pretend it was. A part of Shannon wanted to run. The tacky as hell pistol in his pants prevented her. Like a perfect gentleman, he helped her into the back of a red corolla with tinted windows.
“This is what I get for having lunch in an outdoor cafe?” she joked nervously.
He twitched like he wanted to slap her, but clearly stopped himself. This whole scene was already suspicious enough. Someone might call the authorities. They wouldn’t find her where she was going, though. He could wait. Then he could really beat the shit out of her.
Shannon hated being able to guess what he was thinking. After years of experience being beaten up by the lackeys of gangsters and thugs, she decided it was better to be taken by surprise. Getting suddenly slammed by something, being tripped or otherwise, it’s nothing like being cornered.
If she was cornered, she had to fight and if she had to fight, she would have to use her switchblade. She wasn’t a sociopath like some others she knew - she didn’t like stabbing people, even if they hurt her. It’s been five years since the incident that led a man to bleed out in an ambulance. She didn’t want to repeat that.
“Heh, that’s what you get,” he responded.
Fantastic, another brilliant comedian.
He pulled a ragged U turn, the pedestrians relieved to see the two leaving. Both ‘Randy’ and Shannon never bothered to use their seatbelts. You never know when you have to suddenly ditch a car, after all. “You wanna listen to music or something?” he asked awkwardly.
“...The fuck are you asking me for?” This was the man who said he would plant a bomb in her car, after all.
“I don’t know, I just wanted to be polite.”
“Sure, whatever.”
99.5 top 50 hits, all day everyday!
She groaned. Inwardly.
