I'll Never Tell

“You’re coming with us, madam,” I heard roar from across the airplane terminal gate, bouncing around the accordion-like walls. “You will not board this plane!” I stopped in my boots. Who are these big, tough guys talking to? Me? Nah, that lady carrying a black and basic briefcase looks awfully suspicious. I bet there’s money organized by the hundreds in there, or maybe an exotic pet. Is that a feather poking out I see? But alas, my bad luck has followed me. The grey suited men stand before me as one reaches for my wrists. I resist. Needless to say, I know karate, and I know my rights! I punch a man square in the eye, but unfortunately for me, I couldn’t knock him out likely due to his meathead build. Before I knew it I was apprehended and in cuffs and headed to a police van, caged in somewhat innocently like a wild animal on display at a zoo. I waved through the bars to the public. Behold this spectacle! “You know what you did!” the bald guy sternly announced prior to slamming the door in my face. Playing hard to get, I profess, “I’ll never tell.” I don’t know what I did—I did nothing matter of fact—but I am an open for an adventure tonight. Ya see, I’m not only a pretty gal, slim with blonde locks and the bluest eyes. My daddy was a spy, and my mommy was an investigative journalist. I have the looks, the brains, the skill, and the mindset to take some guys out and maybe even destroy a whole police agency. I’m a tough girl, too, y’know! I can handle what they do to me—the yelling, the anger, the physical control. I won’t break because I simply can’t. I don’t know what they’re going to do with me or what exactly I have done to get here, but all I know is that I plan to have some fun. I hope they don’t find my blunt that I have hidden in my sock. It’s time to light this up! What do people my age say? Get lit? Literally.

Little do they know, I just got back from the insane asylum, after been in the witness protection program, post-fleeing Mexico for provoking some alleged gang rivalry. The po-po, more like peewee security, just made the worst decision of their life by challenging me, especially when I’m actually guiltless this time. I paid my dues long ago, and I was after a fresh start. I planned on retiring my psycho lifestyle. But nah, I’m in love with the adrenaline—the tang of the spice on my teeth. What can I say? I like to stir the pot, and baby, I love some gumbo!

I look around the little metal crate. I have a match in my other sock, a zipper on my jacket, a bobby pin, and an industrial piercing. The key is to already have all the supplies you need already on your person; there is no ‘break-out kit’. To maintain my proprietary secret, I’ll just say I got the back door open with some deep, cursing-under-my breaths and confidence in myself. I jumped out of the moving vehicle into the busy highway like what you’d see in the action movies. Instead of a beautiful, painless landing, I crashed into someone’s windshield as they braked abruptly in the middle of the road. With the lit joint between my lips, I summersaulted off the hood of the car and threw the man onto the asphalt and jacked his car. I then took an exit. I’m sure the po-po heard the commotion outside the van but would be greeted with billows of smoke as I flee the scene. I pulled into a gas station and then a grew a little picky and choosy. I really was in the mood for a stealing a truck. Then I saw it—a gorgeous 30-footer RV, class B. Perfect!

One thing led to the other, and I was driving the motorhome down a backroad, rather scenic. Then cue the trail of police car sirens booming through the wooded area. Back and forth & back and forth I saw the lights flash through the trees right before the patrol got on my tail, approaching the RV at lightning speed. I slammed the brakes, jerked it into park, and climbed out the little kitchen window. It was one tight squeeze! I suppose I could have used to the cab door, but I wanted my appearance to come as a surprise. It’s time that I prove my innocence to this particular crime. Enforcing my sinless wasn’t too convincing considering I was taken away for the second time today in handcuffs and shoved into the back of a police cruiser. Turns out police aren’t very understanding after you’ve evaded arrest. They should be thankful I didn’t blow them up; that was Plan B. I should have just made a run for it in the forest, befriended a bear and lived in a little hole in the ground. Instead, I woke up cuffed to a chair in an interrogation room. Apparently I took a nap. I honestly thought this was all a dream.

Moments later, they brought in the ‘bad cop.’ A grin and the piercing optics of authority. “You know what you’ve done. It’s time to confess.” I looked him straight in the eye. I went as far from the chair that would allow, got in his face, and affirmed, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Oh so now we’re playing stupid?” he asked. “We have evidence of you trying to kill this man.” They rolled the tape. I watched and laughed as a woman who looks nearly identical to me takes a baseball bat and swings it around a shopping aisle of her local friendly grocery store. She ends up whacking a random dude several times, then an employee takes the weapon from her grip. “Does this lady look familiar to you?” “No,” I asserted. Really, I’ve never met her a day in my life. “Sure, she is as drop dead gorgeous as me, but at the end of the day, there is no ‘attempted’ murder. I don’t attempt anything; I am always successful in all that I endeavor.” I told the officer, but he wasn’t buying it. He may think he has me cornered; I have a couple tricks up my sleeve. If I’m getting arrested tonight, it’s going to be because of something that I did—the law and the bones that I BREAK. I read him like a book you’d buy at a thrift store. The pages might have been worn, the spine wasn’t all that straight, and the scent was off, but I glanced at him and knew what I needed to say. I said nothing. Actions speak louder than words.

Some books are burned and some get torn.

To be continued?