Tempting the Light: Legends and Myths Police Squad (L.A.M.P.S. Book 1) by Bonnie Gill Page B
Authors: Bonnie Gill
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happening!
The door opened to the bathroom and a mime walked in. Abby froze. She was the mime. The slut-mime who Burt had screwed.
The mime’s mouth formed an O, and she placed her hand over it. She had the audacity to point a glove covered finger at Abby, and silent-laughed while holding her belly.
Abby saw red.
If she ever wondered what that saying meant, the meaning was now clear. The outline of everything turned a deep, bright shade of fuchsia. Her hands trembled. Her brain drummed thunder and lightning into her ears. Abby picked up a handful of the genie-less tampons and threw them at the mime.
Tampons bounced off of the mime’s chest. Mime-hussy’s blood red lips drooped down, her eyes squinted, connecting the painted stripe on her lid to her cheek. She amplified putting her hands on her hips.
“Leave before I lose it—clown-face.” Tampons fell from her lap as she stood, scattering like confetti across the tile floor, and her fists formed into small wrecking balls. Her mouth went dry as if her throat was stuffed with super maxi-pads.
The mime-hussy ran at Abby and tackled her. Air from her lungs pushed through her mouth with an “Umph.” Her legs sprawled underneath her, her hip bounced off the tile and she heaved in breath-after-breath to fill her deflated lungs.
The mime pinned Abby’s shoulder to the grimy bathroom floor and she threw a punch. Pain flared across her cheekbone.
Abby wriggled her arm free and elbowed Mime-hussy in the painted teardrop under her eye. It crunched on contact, and damn it felt good. Mime-hussy’s head snapped back with the blow. Abby scrambled to her knees and slammed her fist into the mime’s stomach. One word escaped from the Mime’s mouth. “Bitch.”
“Ah ha. You talked.” Abby pointed at her.
The mime doubled over, hands on her knees. Her lip curled when she looked at Abby.
Scrambling to her feet, Abby’s foot slipped on the mountain of tampons. She grabbed the damaged vending machine and pulled herself up.
A white forehead crashed into hers with a clunk. Abby flew backward and the back of her head hit the cement wall. Like two freight trains colliding, one in the front of her head, the other in the back, the impact brought swirling white lights through her vision. She collapsed on the floor.
Mime-hussy’s foot swung for her ribs. She rolled away on the soft cushion of feminine products cluttering the floor.
“What’s . . . your . . . problem?” Abby pulled in a deep breath in between each word, and she struggled to her feet.
The mime didn’t answer. She motioned the crazy sign by making circles with her pointer finger by her temple.
Yeah, right. Who’s the crazy one?
The bathroom door exploded open. Two well-built men in rent-a-cop uniforms stormed inside. The mime pointed at Abby and took her fist and acted like she was punching herself. Then she took her hands and wrapped them around her neck and stuck out her tongue, performing the universal sign of choking.
Abby shook her head no and thrust her open palm at her white-faced nightmare. “She started it. She attacked me.”
The mime pointed at the smashed vending machine and then pointed at Abby.
“Okay. Yeah. I’ll admit the tampon machine gave me some trouble.”
The Rent-a-Cops went into motion.
Abby’s face smacked up against the bathroom wall, her hands pulled behind her back. The Expo-police didn’t kid around. Cold steel handcuffs snapped closed around her wrists like the metal jaws of a starving shark.
She jerked to the side and wiggled her cuffed hands. She turned her head to peek at the exit. She could try to make the door.
Electronic ziz noises from their tazers sounded out behind her. “Lady if you give us any trouble we’ll zap you.”
She wriggled free and bolted with the door in sight.
“You have the right to be silent.”
Ziz. Crackle .
A blaze struck her back and stung from her head to her feet. The rent-a-cop pulled back the tazer and she
The door opened to the bathroom and a mime walked in. Abby froze. She was the mime. The slut-mime who Burt had screwed.
The mime’s mouth formed an O, and she placed her hand over it. She had the audacity to point a glove covered finger at Abby, and silent-laughed while holding her belly.
Abby saw red.
If she ever wondered what that saying meant, the meaning was now clear. The outline of everything turned a deep, bright shade of fuchsia. Her hands trembled. Her brain drummed thunder and lightning into her ears. Abby picked up a handful of the genie-less tampons and threw them at the mime.
Tampons bounced off of the mime’s chest. Mime-hussy’s blood red lips drooped down, her eyes squinted, connecting the painted stripe on her lid to her cheek. She amplified putting her hands on her hips.
“Leave before I lose it—clown-face.” Tampons fell from her lap as she stood, scattering like confetti across the tile floor, and her fists formed into small wrecking balls. Her mouth went dry as if her throat was stuffed with super maxi-pads.
The mime-hussy ran at Abby and tackled her. Air from her lungs pushed through her mouth with an “Umph.” Her legs sprawled underneath her, her hip bounced off the tile and she heaved in breath-after-breath to fill her deflated lungs.
The mime pinned Abby’s shoulder to the grimy bathroom floor and she threw a punch. Pain flared across her cheekbone.
Abby wriggled her arm free and elbowed Mime-hussy in the painted teardrop under her eye. It crunched on contact, and damn it felt good. Mime-hussy’s head snapped back with the blow. Abby scrambled to her knees and slammed her fist into the mime’s stomach. One word escaped from the Mime’s mouth. “Bitch.”
“Ah ha. You talked.” Abby pointed at her.
The mime doubled over, hands on her knees. Her lip curled when she looked at Abby.
Scrambling to her feet, Abby’s foot slipped on the mountain of tampons. She grabbed the damaged vending machine and pulled herself up.
A white forehead crashed into hers with a clunk. Abby flew backward and the back of her head hit the cement wall. Like two freight trains colliding, one in the front of her head, the other in the back, the impact brought swirling white lights through her vision. She collapsed on the floor.
Mime-hussy’s foot swung for her ribs. She rolled away on the soft cushion of feminine products cluttering the floor.
“What’s . . . your . . . problem?” Abby pulled in a deep breath in between each word, and she struggled to her feet.
The mime didn’t answer. She motioned the crazy sign by making circles with her pointer finger by her temple.
Yeah, right. Who’s the crazy one?
The bathroom door exploded open. Two well-built men in rent-a-cop uniforms stormed inside. The mime pointed at Abby and took her fist and acted like she was punching herself. Then she took her hands and wrapped them around her neck and stuck out her tongue, performing the universal sign of choking.
Abby shook her head no and thrust her open palm at her white-faced nightmare. “She started it. She attacked me.”
The mime pointed at the smashed vending machine and then pointed at Abby.
“Okay. Yeah. I’ll admit the tampon machine gave me some trouble.”
The Rent-a-Cops went into motion.
Abby’s face smacked up against the bathroom wall, her hands pulled behind her back. The Expo-police didn’t kid around. Cold steel handcuffs snapped closed around her wrists like the metal jaws of a starving shark.
She jerked to the side and wiggled her cuffed hands. She turned her head to peek at the exit. She could try to make the door.
Electronic ziz noises from their tazers sounded out behind her. “Lady if you give us any trouble we’ll zap you.”
She wriggled free and bolted with the door in sight.
“You have the right to be silent.”
Ziz. Crackle .
A blaze struck her back and stung from her head to her feet. The rent-a-cop pulled back the tazer and she
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