I Fought The Law

“Sir, your card was declined.” She says with disdain, chewing her gum, giving me my useless plastic rectangle.

Shite. No shag is worth this headache.

“Try again.” I say eyeballing the two security guards.

How hard would it be to just run away? Pretty hard, considering that the coke effects are wearing out and the alcohol ones are taking over. Not to mention that if I use the gun, police response time would be less than 5 minutes. Why did I come to a whorehouse so close to a police station?

“Declined again, sir.”

You gotta be fucking kidding me, this card doesn’t have a limit. I need to call the egits at the bank tomorrow morning. But now, I need to focus on the brutes between me and the door. Now they’re the ones eyeballing me.

“I’ll just go to the ATM then, hang on.” I say to the hostess. The security guards laugh.

“Leave the mobile, bruv.” One of them say.

“I’m glad to know that your lack of brain still allows you to talk.” I answer. “Of course I won’t leave my mobile. I’m expecting for an important call.” I’m obviously expecting shit.

He raises his fists and the other guy hold his arm.

“Not worth it.” He says.

“Aye, listen to your girlfriend.” I laugh. Both of them advance. “Keep the phone, I’ll be right back with the money.” I leave the device with the hostess and the gorillas make way.

There’s no fucking bank open. Where will I find 200 quid?

I feel the iron in my jacket pocket.


Three junkies later, I’m only 50 euro short. I didn’t even had to draw the gun, the guys shit themselves buying drugs. Only one of them tried to argue with me, but he was so brave that I let the kid go.

A fat bloke turns a left and gets into a dark street with a backpack. Excelent.

I go to him from behind and whisper:

“Drop your wallet on the ground and keep walking.”

He doesn’t even look back.

“I just need to take it from my bag, I need my ID.” He says.

The fat guy puts the bag on the ground and opens it. When he reaches inside, I hear a click. Fuck.

BAM BAM BAM!

His fat body falls hard on the ground. I look around to see if there’s anyone around. Nothing strange. I get his backpack and see the cocked gun inside. I throw it out and start to search the bag for the money. There’s a cop uniform inside. I’m relieved, one less pig in the world is always a good thing.

No wallet in the bag, it must be in the pig’s pocket. I get closer to the body and start to search. Foun —

BAM!

Fat fuck. He’s still alive.

I fall on the ground looking at the red hole in my chest.

Why did I come to a whorehouse so close to a police station?

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