Read Online Single White Psycopath Seeks Same by Jeff Strand - Free Book Online
Authors: Jeff Strand
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don’t c-c-c-care about me. C’mon, buddy, one l-little quarter.” The man walked up right beside Thomas.
“All right, let me see what I’ve got,” said Thomas, digging in his pants pocket.
“J-just one quarter, I m-m-mean it’s not that b-big of a deal. Just a quarter.”
“Look, here’s some change,” said Thomas, holding out a small handful. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have important business to attend to.”
“Thanks, buddy, I d-didn’t wanna be a b-bother,” the man said, taking the change with his right hand. His other hand moved before I had a chance to shout out a warning.
Thomas’ mouth dropped open, a broken bottle sticking in his side. As Roger and I quickly got to our feet, the man grabbed Thomas’ gun and yelped with delight.
“Bitchin’! Awesome p-piece, man!” He took off running toward the exit.
Thomas wrenched the glass out of his side, cursed loudly, and began to stagger after him.
I did the necessary hand twists and the handcuffs dropped to the floor with a clatter. I started to run after Thomas, but my foot came down on a large piece of glass, making me lose my balance and fall to my knees with a gasp of pain.
“I can’t get these cuffs undone!” said Roger, desperately twisting his hands.
I pulled the piece of glass out of the bottom of my shoe. It stung a bit, but hadn’t punctured deep. Thomas and the man were gone. I got up and glanced around at the people in the building, all of whom were staring at us now. If one of them was the kidnapper in disguise, we might be in some pretty serious trouble. Actually, even if one of them wasn’t, our current situation wasn’t exactly joviality and high spirits.
“Give me your hands,” I told Roger. I twisted the cuffs the way we were supposed to, and then gave them a tug. They didn’t come undone. “Aw, great.”
“People are tryin’ to sleep!” a woman shouted angrily.
I twisted the handcuffs again, but they still wouldn’t open. “Okay, bit of a problem,” I said. “Let’s just get out of here.”
As we turned to go, I saw that the two junkies from the staircase were now standing in front of the door. This didn’t strike me as a good development.
We walked toward the door, hoping the junkies were just there to open it for us. Roger continued to struggle with the handcuffs while we walked. I noticed a couple more guys to our left were moving toward us, one of them holding a baseball bat, the other holding a strip of wood with thick nails in it.
“Happy thoughts,” I whispered. “Just think happy, happy thoughts.”
We were almost to the door, and it was clear that the junkies had no intention of letting us go. “Hi there, gentlemen,” I said in my most cheerful manner. “If it’s all right with you, we’d like to go help our friend. He was the one who got the broken bottle stuck in his side. If that helps.”
“You ain’t goin’ nowhere,” said one of the junkies.
“Oh, give me a break,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “You don’t really think you can take me, do you?”
The junkie pulled out a switchblade. He snapped the blade open and looked very pleased with himself.
“Oh, give me a break,” I said, trying to keep my pants dry. “You don’t really think you can stab me, do you?”
“I dunno,” the junkie replied, giving it a twirl. “What d’you think?”
“I think this is all ridiculous. We’re all adults here...well, not you two, but you’re close enough. There’s no reason for violence.”
“Not if you give us your wallets,” the second junkie said.
I reached for my wallet, and then my stomach took a plunge. “Okay, you know what, even though you did present an extremely valid, workable solution to our conflict, unfortunately I wasn’t really planning on making any purchases tonight, so I left my wallet in the motel room. Sorry.”
The guys with the baseball bat and nail-laden wood walked up next to us. I couldn’t see them clearly, but I was
“All right, let me see what I’ve got,” said Thomas, digging in his pants pocket.
“J-just one quarter, I m-m-mean it’s not that b-big of a deal. Just a quarter.”
“Look, here’s some change,” said Thomas, holding out a small handful. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have important business to attend to.”
“Thanks, buddy, I d-didn’t wanna be a b-bother,” the man said, taking the change with his right hand. His other hand moved before I had a chance to shout out a warning.
Thomas’ mouth dropped open, a broken bottle sticking in his side. As Roger and I quickly got to our feet, the man grabbed Thomas’ gun and yelped with delight.
“Bitchin’! Awesome p-piece, man!” He took off running toward the exit.
Thomas wrenched the glass out of his side, cursed loudly, and began to stagger after him.
I did the necessary hand twists and the handcuffs dropped to the floor with a clatter. I started to run after Thomas, but my foot came down on a large piece of glass, making me lose my balance and fall to my knees with a gasp of pain.
“I can’t get these cuffs undone!” said Roger, desperately twisting his hands.
I pulled the piece of glass out of the bottom of my shoe. It stung a bit, but hadn’t punctured deep. Thomas and the man were gone. I got up and glanced around at the people in the building, all of whom were staring at us now. If one of them was the kidnapper in disguise, we might be in some pretty serious trouble. Actually, even if one of them wasn’t, our current situation wasn’t exactly joviality and high spirits.
“Give me your hands,” I told Roger. I twisted the cuffs the way we were supposed to, and then gave them a tug. They didn’t come undone. “Aw, great.”
“People are tryin’ to sleep!” a woman shouted angrily.
I twisted the handcuffs again, but they still wouldn’t open. “Okay, bit of a problem,” I said. “Let’s just get out of here.”
As we turned to go, I saw that the two junkies from the staircase were now standing in front of the door. This didn’t strike me as a good development.
We walked toward the door, hoping the junkies were just there to open it for us. Roger continued to struggle with the handcuffs while we walked. I noticed a couple more guys to our left were moving toward us, one of them holding a baseball bat, the other holding a strip of wood with thick nails in it.
“Happy thoughts,” I whispered. “Just think happy, happy thoughts.”
We were almost to the door, and it was clear that the junkies had no intention of letting us go. “Hi there, gentlemen,” I said in my most cheerful manner. “If it’s all right with you, we’d like to go help our friend. He was the one who got the broken bottle stuck in his side. If that helps.”
“You ain’t goin’ nowhere,” said one of the junkies.
“Oh, give me a break,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “You don’t really think you can take me, do you?”
The junkie pulled out a switchblade. He snapped the blade open and looked very pleased with himself.
“Oh, give me a break,” I said, trying to keep my pants dry. “You don’t really think you can stab me, do you?”
“I dunno,” the junkie replied, giving it a twirl. “What d’you think?”
“I think this is all ridiculous. We’re all adults here...well, not you two, but you’re close enough. There’s no reason for violence.”
“Not if you give us your wallets,” the second junkie said.
I reached for my wallet, and then my stomach took a plunge. “Okay, you know what, even though you did present an extremely valid, workable solution to our conflict, unfortunately I wasn’t really planning on making any purchases tonight, so I left my wallet in the motel room. Sorry.”
The guys with the baseball bat and nail-laden wood walked up next to us. I couldn’t see them clearly, but I was
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