Triple Triad
There is twenty seven cents in my pocket... Three coins in total, one quarter, and two pennies. Er my left pocket to be exact, why I should mention this is because this could be a very important clue later in the story...
"I thought your story was quite convincing but it didn't fool me." Mr. "Pretty boy" cop said in his cocky ways. Damn, he didn't ask about my left pocket. The cop urged foward,
"What'd you do yesterday night? To be specific between 1:00AM to 4:45AM?" Mr. Cop continued the harassing like questioning.
"I was hangin' out with some acquaintances..." I answered neutrally.
"You're friends looked like crack dealers." There he goes again sharing his damn opinion, if he actually had evidence then I'd spill but I had to keep my ****in' cool or else I will get caught. I knew he was recording our conversation so I can't raise my voice.
"What a unique way to say it..." I responded.
He finally noticed my hand fumbling around in my left pocket and asked in a curious villain like tone, "What's that you got in your pocket there?" He slammed a revolver on the table, I responded by slamming the twenty seven cents on the counter slyly smirking at the cop's disappointed satisfaction. Phew, good thing he didn't ask about my right pocket with cocaine in it.
Tell me how you like it. It's only a start.
"I thought your story was quite convincing but it didn't fool me." Mr. "Pretty boy" cop said in his cocky ways. Damn, he didn't ask about my left pocket. The cop urged foward,
"What'd you do yesterday night? To be specific between 1:00AM to 4:45AM?" Mr. Cop continued the harassing like questioning.
"I was hangin' out with some acquaintances..." I answered neutrally.
"You're friends looked like crack dealers." There he goes again sharing his damn opinion, if he actually had evidence then I'd spill but I had to keep my ****in' cool or else I will get caught. I knew he was recording our conversation so I can't raise my voice.
"What a unique way to say it..." I responded.
He finally noticed my hand fumbling around in my left pocket and asked in a curious villain like tone, "What's that you got in your pocket there?" He slammed a revolver on the table, I responded by slamming the twenty seven cents on the counter slyly smirking at the cop's disappointed satisfaction. Phew, good thing he didn't ask about my right pocket with cocaine in it.
Tell me how you like it. It's only a start.