How to be a spy 3
Of course, at this point I knew that whoever wanted the box would be as desperate as possible to procure it. And getting the cops involved was now out of the question. And I was most likely going to die. And I hadn’t done a whole load of things in my life: I hadn’t gotten married, I hadn’t eaten Indian cuisine, I hadn’t learned Esperanto, or peed on a cat, or gone skydiving. And thus my life was going to be cut short, and for a matter that didn’t concern me one bit.
I felt like crying.
“Turn around slowly,” the person with the gun said, as menacingly as he could afford. Now, there’s something you must know about me when I’m very afraid: I begin to think of, and say, the most stupid and irrational things. Though I very much want to still pee on a cat before I die.
“Are you the person who spoke to me on the phone?” I asked turning around as slowly as I could without dying from the tension. “Because your voice now, and the one on the phone are strangely quite divergent.”
The man pushed me roughly. “You think this is a game?” he asked, glowering at me. If there was anything I was well aware of now, it was that this was most certainly not the person who spoke to me on the phone. He looked like a giant goblin, and his voice sounded like sandpaper on ground glass. “You have a box with you,” he said, “give it to me.”
Quietly, I pulled the box out of my bag, and was about to hand it to him, when a sudden flash of genius (or lack of it) advised me to break the box. I was by now certain that the fellow pointing the gun at me was going to kill me once he got the box from me, so why not frustrate him before I die?
With all my strength, I suddenly threw the box at the man. To my utmost surprise, it smacked him in the face; okay no, the box smacking him in the face wasn’t surprising, as I was a good aim. No, what was surprising was that it knocked him out cold. Now, that was really unexpected.
Walking over to him, I quickly kicked the gun out of his hand, then as an afterthought, picked the gun and put it in the pocket of my jacket.
I was officially in trouble.
To be continued...
Thanks for coming!
That little boy,