100-Word Challenge, Day 197


“You are a funny kid,” says the man holding the gun, “but there is not a chance in hell that the gun goes down.” He stares at me, gauging me and what I’ve said. I can see the thoughts rolling through his mind, not literally, though that would certainly make things a lot easier. “Parker, take the funny boy here back to the holding room while I make sure everything here is copacetic.” Another one of the heavily armed men placed a pair of cuffs on me and dragged me back to whatever passed as a prison cell for them.

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