You Don't Know What They Do To Guys Like Me In Prison

Morning sun streams through the dirty glass, brushing against my weary eyelids and attempting to coerce them into opening. The usual crust of the morning accompanies my opening eyes with a slight crunch, and I have to rub at them to rid myself of the crumbly substance. I look towards the back, prepared to wake Frank up so we could be on the move again. Where my hand touched, though, there was only air. I bolted upright, my eyes searching frantically for Frank’s tiny form, although my mind knew it was nowhere to be found in the, now cold, back seat. I cursed to myself, slamming the door open and looking around. Observational skills come in handy as a wanted criminal, and I soon spot some muddy tracks leading into the woods. I mutter to myself again, going to grab my gun and- god DAMN it. That little freak stole my gun! I bet the damn idiot doesn’t even know how to use one!

It’s with a snarl that I take off running, my feet barely grazing the ground as I tear after my escaped prisoner. Thankfully his tracks say that he is not quite as experienced in being light on his feet in the wilderness, and he’s easy to track. His initial head start had given him a good size gap, but now it was no use to him. I was closing in faster than he could run away. I watched as the footprints grew to be more and more fresh, until finally they had been made a mere minute before. I slowed, now stalking Frank. I slipped silently through the trees, watching closely for my runaway.

In all honesty, I heard him before I saw him. Who wouldn’t, with him tramping through the forest and breaking every branch he comes in contact with. He’s like a giant lumbering elephant when walking through this forest. I decided I wanted to have a little fun with my prey before catching him, like how a cat toys with a mouse once he knows it’s caught. So, behind a thick oak tree I purposefully crack a branch. Frank whirls around, his arms shaking and my gun pointed in the general direction of the sound.

“I-is someone there?” He calls out, and at the moment I’m amazed the gun stays in his hand, he’s shaking so badly. I snicker to myself, darting to another tree and crunching some leaves by it. He twists again, stumbling over a log.

“S-show yourself!” Frank yells, eyes darting left and right frantically.

“Why should I?” I purr softly from my hiding place before darting to a new one. Frank squeaks, and I watch my gun fire at the tree I was stood by before. I can’t tell if his aim is just really terrible, or if his shaking is throwing him off. Either way, I find it amusing.

“Now, now, is that any way to treat your host?” More gunshots.

“You know, I would’ve thought you to be more polite, Frankie dearest.” A few more.

“At this rate you’re going to run out of bullets damn fast, sweetheart.” Another two, more hesitant, shots.

“I mean, you don’t want to lack ammo.” Another three.

“Especially…” BANG.

“When I come right out in front of you.” I smirked, stepping out directly in front of his gun. He screams, pulling at the trigger rapidly.

Click. Click click, click.

Frank looks at the gun, a horrified expression growing on his face. I laugh, smirking at him.

“Tsk, tsk, Frankie-boy. It’s a shame you ran out of shells so fast. And right at the most inconvenient moment, too.” I frowned sympathetically, in a patronizing way. “Boohoo. Maybe you shouldn’t try to fire the gun on the person who knows how many bullets it has.”
Frank merely gaped at me, whimpering.

“That’s right. I counted how many shots you fired off. You used every last one.” I stepped forward, swiftly snatching my gun and managing to pickpocket him at the same time. “And now, you’re going to pay for my new bullets. Unless, of course, you want the next one aimed at your head?”

Frank just shook his head quickly, cowering in fear.

“That’s what I thought.” I chuckled, throwing his wallet back at him after taking fifty dollars from it. “Thanks for the cash.” I winked smugly in his direction, beckoning him to follow- and with a low, resigned sigh… He did.

Notes

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