This is a continuation. To start from the beginning, click here.
I must have been thinking about something else.
“What? Oh, I gave up my old look for something a little less Muncie and a little more Manhattan like Hannibal puts it. Before I was captain of the golf team I wouldn’t have cared. Screw anyone who makes fun of my clothes, you know? Then Hannibal steps down as captain to concentrate on his game and I get the job, but he said I needed to look the part so the beret and jeans jacket had to go…it’s a shame, I miss wearing them.”
Simon was desperate for eye contact from anyone. “Please…help me!”
“Shut up.”
Simon was trying to twist out of our grip, but Officer Grout pistol-whipped him into unconsciousness and after that he was a lot easier to transport. “Good night, precious.” He put his pistol back in his holster and looked at his watch. He hoisted the boy’s body up into a fireman’s carry, shrugged him into a better position, and gave me a genial nod. “Thanks for your help, I can get him from here, Racki.”
For the next installment, click here.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
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