Beyond the Supermarket
The parking lot possesses the kind of lighting appropriate for such crimes as mugging, rape, and unsanctioned gambling to take place unnoticed. My car is nearby, parked in a handicap spot, sideways. I make my way towards it with haste.
I open the trunk. There is a man inside. He appears to be bound, and from his mouth bulges what looks to be a ball gag.
“What are you doing in my trunk?” I inquire. He merely mumbles something through the ball gag in response.
“Dammit man I need answers, not muffled sass back! Talk to me!” More mumbling, but this time accompanied by gestures.
I dangle the box of Crunch Berries in front of his face. Time to use the carrot. “Look, I’ll give you these Crunch Berries if you just tell me what you’re doing here. Promise.” Again, more mumbling and flailing.
“Fine, be that way. I’ll keep the Crunch Berries for myself!” I close the trunk. No use wasting my time interrogating a belligerent hostage. The night is young, and my pants are still at large…