Bank Robbers

“I don’t think you want to know the answer.”

Jessie grinned, darkly. “Know what?”

Oak looked at the AK-47 held up to his nose, then, in a bizarre twist, held to his nuts.

Jessie motioned for Oak to instantly head over to the police car.

They walked all the way to the trunk. “Okay,” said Oak, in a desperate sigh. “If you just have to be nosy.”


The white twinkle of early morning sunlight poured into Officer Creeler’s eyes for the first time in four days. He had been fed, but not bathed, so the sweaty stench of the mouth gag escalated into his open nostrils. It was fetid. The odor matched the sour brackish taste in his sweaty mouth.

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