Author: Harper Kingsley
Genre: superhero, dialogue
"I have so many regrets about today. I’m actually worried I might be investigated by the IRS or whoever it is that handles crazy breakdowns in public places. It wasn’t that lady’s fault, but I was having a bad time and I really didn’t want to be there. It was way above and beyond any kind of acceptability though, I just… I… I couldn’t stop the words from coming. My usual fucked up ‘hope they die in a fire’ thing. But really I metaphorically kinda do, because if someone’s really stolen my identity, and that’s why I can’t get a bank account now… That’s messed up. And I hope they’re earning me a ton of social security credits. Though that’s probably illegal and the government would just take them away and…"
After a long pause. "What’s going on here?"
"We’re being robbed. And you talk too much."
"YOU! Get over there with your friend. Keep your hands where I can see them."
"Yessir. Yessir. Oh god, we’re going to die."
"Not unless you press me. You hear?"
"Kneel, what do you think we should do?"
"I think you shouldn’t lay it on so thick with the ‘Yessir. Yessirs.’ He’ll probably try to pistol whip you and break his gun.
"Can you handle him already?"
"Fine, fine. As you wish."
"What was that? Hey! Hey you, sit back down. Don’t come over here. Hey! What’s wrong with you? Are you really trying to get me to shoot you?"
"I’m sorry it has to be like this. But we’re hiding, you see. We really can’t talk to anyone that might put two-and-two together and get ten."
"What… What are you talking about? Hey. You’re hurting me. I can’t feel my fingers. Don’t."
"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Do you have anyone that you want to receive your death benefit?"
"Please. I don’t know anything. I won’t tell anyone anything. I broke in here. I broke the law. I don’t want to talk to no cops. Don’t kill me man. Don’t kill me."
"What if I snapped your neck right now? Nobody would ever know what happened to you. It’s the kind of thing I have to think about all the time, creeping and crawling through my brain. The thought of murdering you makes me hard."
"Oh god. Please don’t. If I could, I’d forget you if I could."
"Is that really so? Feel this."
"Ahhh! What was that? Oh no. You got superpowers, don’t you? You got them."
"Ding-ding-ding. Looks like you got one thing right tonight."
"You can’t not be somebody. Who… who are you?"
"He passed out and peed his pants. I think you did your job a little too well."
"Dammit. That stain’s never going to come out of the carpet."
"Well, go on then, Mindfuck. Make sure he doesn’t have any of our stuff on him, then haul him out of here. Did you already wipe our address and muddle our faces?"
"Of course. You’re a dashing 1990’s Antonio Banderas-cousin, and I’m a svelte redheaded lady in denim overalls."
"You should be ashamed of yourself."
"I see you’re in the chair tonight?"
"I felt like using my wheels."
"I see. I’ll just take this guy out the back and drop him off a block over."
"Of course. I always am when I know you’re here waiting for me."
"The guilt-trip has to end sometime. I think that time is tonight. What do you say, Mindfuck?"
"I hate that using code names in front of this guy makes me sound terrible. I chose that name when I was 14 and thought I was the baddest of bad asses."
"You are the baddest of bad asses. Watch out! You almost smacked his head. Watch out."
"Yeah, yeah. I better focus on this. Asshole.
"I’ll be back in a little while. You should eat without me."
"I like-like you."
"I like-like you too."
"Come back to me."
"Be here for me to come back to."