By Tim Sevenhuysen
Posted April 15, 2012
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Milly skidded to a stop. Haglyn was sitting in her GyroCart, hands held up over her head, trying not to provoke an attack from the thief, who was clutching her blaster in trembling hands. She clearly hadn’t anticipated being backed into a corner like this. The thief swept the blaster back and forth, as if unsure which of Milly and Haglyn posed the greater threat.
“Take it easy,” growled Haglyn. “Give us our plastic back, and you can go.”
“Nuh uh!” said the thief, her voice shaky. “Mine now, belongs to me… Gotta take care of my children. Gotta feed ‘em, gotta keep ‘em warm and dry. You can’t take my babies away from me!”
Milly stepped closer. “We’re not trying to—”
“DON’T TAKE MY BABIES!” howled the thief. She jabbed the blaster towards Milly.
Milly’s self-preservation reflexes kicked in, and she dove forward behind the nearest cover, which happened to be Haglyn’s GyroCart. She stumbled and ran into the back of the cart, causing it to tilt forward, which engaged its engine, which made it shoot quickly forward, startling the thief and bowling her over. The woman hit the wall and dropped the blaster, and her bulky jacket flew open. A shower of plastic beads poured out of the pockets onto the ground.
Milly was the first to recover. She reached down and grabbed the blaster.
The thief sat up dizzily, holding her head, and moaned. When she saw Milly glaring at her from behind the blaster, and the scattered beads all around her, she wrapped her arms around herself and began to cry. “My babies!” she sobbed. “Don’t hurt my babies…”
What do they do with the thief and her plastic beads?
Total Voters: 9
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