The turning of the worm

Patches had been in tight spots before, but he didn’t know if he’d ever been held captive by a broad quite like this before. He stayed silent and plotted whilst waiting to hear what she had to say.

“You’ll get your dough, sexas toast, when-”

There was a flash of light, the sounds of birds singing in the trees, and a strain of barely heard music that sounded both familiar and new. Angeline dove to the cab floor and Patches prepared to take this opportunity to escape. As he lunged for his bag, he suddenly heard the sound of children laughing and playing. A scattering of pink stars swept across his vision.

“Godfuckingdamint, honeysop, don’t ya know how to read the signs?”

Patches turned and saw a beautiful, a beloved, face. He thought he could see hearts bobbing about her face and he sighed. It was so cute how she batted them away from her face. “Do you like Aruba, flitter-mouse?” He’d take her to Aruba after he stole the item from her, it would be like a honeymoon. Could it be a honeymoon? He took in the adorable look of frustration, the endearing way she pulled herself into the driver’s seat and started pounding her head against the steering wheel made him smile. The honks of the horn matched the beating of his heart. “Or Bora-Bora, either way, my dear, it’s your honeymoon.”

She stopped abruptly and sat up straight, “Honeymoon?”

He reached out and clasped her hand, “Yes, darling. After I finish this heist I have no commitments and we can run off into the sunset together. Preferably a sunset on the beach.”

She started to say something but stopped, an arrested expression on her face. The calculating look on her face was almost as captivating as the grin that started to spread across her face. “So, honey-bunny, can you tell me about this heist that’s interfering with our,” she seemed to choke a little, he thought the way the emotion overwhelmed her was positively endearing, “honeymoon?”

He hesitated, somewhere in his consciousness he could swear there was a voice screaming at him to shut up. He heard the tinkle of an ice cream truck and he sprang to attention in the seat, scrambling for change in his pocket. A soft hand was placed on his arm and he turned to see the glowing face of his beloved. “Dearest? Could you answer the question?” Ice cream forgotten he leaned forward and attempted to press his lips against hers. She gently stopped him, “Answer sweetie.”

He smiled into her eyes, “Oh, I have to finish a simple job tonight at your place. Then it’s off to Hawaii.” He leaned forward again only to be fended off.

She patted his chest, “Now, my love, do you know who hired you?”

He nodded eagerly, scooting closer, “Mr. Johnson. He has squinty brown eyes and he smells funny.”

Profanity started falling from her lips like rain, monsoon rain. He rested an elbow on the dash and his cheek in his hand. She was so delightfully creative, even if much of what she said was physiologically impossible.


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