“If you’re serious about this craziness, you’re not going to shoot me, Jeff.” I had seen plenty of hostage situations in movies, and this was a universal truth.
“No,” he replied, aiming the weapon at my leg, “At least nowhere important. You can still fulfill your end of this deal with a shattered kneecap.” He had me there. I couldn’t just go along with this, though. My mind started racing for some way out of this awkward and very creepy situation. Okay, what do I know about Jeff? He was definitely a pervert. And the way he’s handling that gun like it might go off at any moment led me to believe that in addition to being a pervert, Jeff was also a pussy. I decided to exploit both of these character flaws to ensure my escape from his deranged clutches, and get a Glock in the process.
I slid the handle of Shawn’s hammer into one of my belt loops and held my hands out. I’d have to play this guy out just right.
“You seem pretty passionate about this idea, Jeff,” I tried to make my voice sound all smoky and sex-crazed, “And right now, you’re the only person I can trust. I’ll need someone like you to keep me safe from these…things.” Jeff lowered his gun, his eyes widening slightly. I wasn’t a pro at seducing men by any stretch of the imagination, but whatever limited experience I had was working on poor, lonely Jeff. From his reaction to the slight change in my voice, it became painfully evident that Jeff’s only sexual experiences had come by way of Madame Palm and her five daughters.
“So, when do you think we should get started?” I asked, stepping closer to Jeff.
“Well, uh…I thought that…when…whenever, really.” Jeff was on the ropes. I pulled off my shirt. It was laundry day, so out of necessity (and quite serendipitously) I was wearing one of my two “sexy” bras. I heard Jeff release a weak sigh, and I knew he was toast.
“I think sooner would be better than later.” I spoke quietly. He let the hand holding his gun fall limply to his side, and I slinked closer, sticking my chest out like I was in a Jay-Z video. I put my arms around his neck, and nearly blew my cover when I saw the expression on his face. Body-wise, I’m like, a 6 out of 10 at best, but keep in mind that Jeff was a very lonely kid.
At this point, I probably could have just asked him for his gun, but I opted for a more vengeful solution. I slid my left hand up Jeff’s neck so I was gripping the back of his head, and then I thrust my head forward directly into Jeff’s pathetic face. The impact stung slightly, and I heard a small crunch that I assumed was Jeff’s glasses, his nose, or maybe both. He groaned and swore through blood-soaked teeth, and I took this brief opportunity to remove Shawn’s hammer from my belt loop. I flipped the hammer in my hand so the clawed end was facing forward, and swung for Jeff’s gun-wielding forearm. It connected, and I felt the hammer dig into Jeff’s muscle and crack bone. He shrieked as he dropped his Glock and reached for his injured arm. His screaming continued as he dropped to his knees, looking at his shattered arm.
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