About That …
Written by castor :: [Saturday, 26 November 2016 19:10] Last updated by :: [Tuesday, 29 November 2016 16:48]
“Can I tell you a story?” said the girl in front of him.
“Give me your money” said the man with a gun.
“About that” said the girl, brushing a little of her brown hair out of her face “No”
“Going to give you 60 seconds” said the man “or I blow your face off”
The girl looked at him. “I’m going to do the same”
“In 60 seconds I am going to blow your face off … no your head. That’s easier. Your face would be tricky. But in 60 seconds”
The man looked at her with his rotten teeth face considering “I don’t know what your talking about
“Is that 50 yet … I should probably count.” she raised up her phone “Siri time 55 seconds. That seems safe”
“Give me that” said the man knocking her phone out of her hand with his gun.
She didn’t reacted, but looked down “Didn’t break. If it broke I would rip your arm off here” said the woman sighing. She was a kind of mousy little thing the guy reflected – what 5’4 100 something pounds. She couldn’t even be precisely described as fit or thin or fat-to much of a sack dress on her. The man just looked at her.
They stood in a cold alley at night, an alley just behind the restaurants. A good alley for these kinda of things the man considered. Usualley.
“Back to the story. A girlfriend of mine, told me once: the main difference between men and women was this. Women never know if they’re going to have to leave run to the bathroom and hide from the men in the room. I never did that, but there where parts in my life when I thought about it, thought about just getting up and hiding from something-its the fear. Its the fear that your gun is creating or suppose to create”
“What the fuck you talking” about said the guy.
“What this little encounter is about” said the woman. “what you and your gun are trying to create. Though honestly you don’t need your gun do you. Your a big strong man and I am a little pathetic women”
“It helps” said the man.
“Your face would be a challenge” said the woman. “How long do we have left on the timer?
“30 seconds” said the voice.
“Thank you Siri” said the woman, as she looked up at him. For a long second she just looked at the guy and the gun.
He kicked her in the leg. The leg felt like a leg. And he other her leg buckled as he did. But it straightened a second latter, there was no pain on her face as it happened. No reaction.
He reached towards her purse just to take it up, but about inch from it something unnerved him.
“What are you?”
“Siri can you start counting out loud once we get to 15”
“15” said the voice a second latter.
The man looked at her.
If he shot her someone told him once you got like a 1/3 chance of going to jail.
Then again if he shot her most likely she would be fine. A bullet is a surprisingly survivable thing.
Shoulder? Aim for the shoulder she hit the ground he could take the purse and a month from now.
Why did he care? This wasn’t a written contract. Shoot.
For some reason he thought of his aunt. She was big and mean.
Part of him wanted to just see this though. See what happens when she screamed.
It wasn’t a smile precisely what she had on her face. Not a smirk. But there was an expression that was just looking at him, and regarding him.
There was something inhuman about her eyes.
He dropped the gun down and ran away as fast as he could.
Penolope opened her purse and pulled out a small compact. She Adjusted her face a little. That was another thing about how women are different then men. She had to present herself constantly. Each second was some moment of judgment to be displayed by her makeup. In her manner. By her. And now once again. It was time to be a normal girl, who walked down the street, and you wouldn’t pay a second notice.