Flask of Gin and a Handgun

Pulling to the side of the road, you reach for the back seat and pull out...

... your trusty flask of gin from the glove compartment. You take a sip or two. "Damn, that hits the spot." Putting it back, you realize that there's also a small handgun inside. "Ol' blacky. You've done me good in the past," holding the gun. So that's your psychotic past. How many people have you killed? Two, three, ten? More? In your drunken rage, you don't have time to think about that now. Your main concern is that "cop" in white.

You run to the side of the road, ducking down. The cop doesn't see you, he's fixated on the red '65 Chevy you were driving. You duck behind the metal guardrail and mutter to yourself, "Guess this'll be a good ol' fashioned gun battle."

You turn away when suddenly a shot rings out�

Written by RedBaron (edited by wanderer)

Trapped

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